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LIBRARY 

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MARY    STUART 


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"  '/ 


MARY     STUART 


FT 

FLORENCE    A.     MACCUNN 

AUTHOR   OF    "A    LIFE   OF  JOHN    KNOX  " 


WITH    FORTY-FOUR   ILLUSTRATIONS 


SECOND   AND   CHEAPER   EDITION 


NEW   YORK 

E.    P.    DUTTON    &    CO. 

1907 


*+*» 


First  Published        .        .         .         October  igoj 
Second  and  Cheaper  Edition    .        June      igoy 


TO    MY   SISTERS 
E.  C.  S.      C  H.  M.      M.  V.  D. 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  The  Mother  .....  i 

December  1542 — July  1548 

II.  At  the  French  Court      .  .  .  .13 

July  1548—1557 

III.  Marriage  with  the  Dauphin     ...  23 

April  1558 — December  1560 

IV.  Le  Deuil  Blanc     .  .  .  .  .37 

December  1560 — August  1561 

V.  Mary's  Return  to  Scotland        .  .  .50 

August  1561 — January  1562 

VI.   Holyrood    ......         60 

January  1562 — November  1562 

VII.  Mary  and  Elisabeth         .  .  .  .69 

October  1562 — September  1564 

VIII.  Darnley      ......        85 

February  1565— July  1565. 

IX.  Riccio's  Murder     .  .  .  .  .96 

August  1565 — March  1566 

X.  Jedburgh     .  .  .  .  •  .109 

March  1566— November  1566 

XI.  Kirk  o'  Field         .  .  .  .  .119 

December  1566 — February  1567 

XII.  Bothwell's  Assize  .  .  .  .  •       135 

February  1567 — May  1567 

XIII.  Carberry  Hill       .  .  .  .  .150 

15th  June  1567 

rii 


vm 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. 

XIV.  Loch  Leven 


June  1567 — May  1568 


XV.  The  Conference  at  York  .  , 

June  1568 — January  1569 

XVI.  Norfolk      ..... 

February  1569 — July  1569 

XVII.  Two  Pictures         .... 

XVIII.  The  Northern  Rising  and  the  Ridolfi  Plot 

1569.    1571—1572 


XIX.  Life  at  Sheffield 


1572— 1580 


XX.  Catholic  Plots       .... 

1580— 1583 

XXI.  The  Beginning  of  the  End  . 

1584— 1585 

XXII.  The  Babington  Conspiracy  .  . 

January  1585 — September  1586 

XXIII.    FOTHERINGAY  .... 

nth  October  1586— 4th  February  1587 


XXIV.  The  End      . 


PAGE 
l62 


I84 
200 

212 

2l6 

235 
250 

263 

271 

290 
306 


February  8th,  1587 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


Mary  about  1579    .  .  .  .  .       Frontispiece 

Given  by  her  to  Thomas  Andrewes,  Sheriff  of  Northamptonshire,  from  whose 

descendants  it  passed  into  the  possession  of  Messrs  Shepherd  Bros., 

by  whose  permission  it  is  here  engraved. 

To  face  page 

James  V.  and  Mary  of  Guise       ....  3 

In  the  Collection  of  the  Duke  of  Devonshire.     From  a  Photograph  by 
Mr  Franz  Hanfstaengl. 

The  Court  of  Linlithgow  Palace  ...  7 

From  a  Photograph  by  Messrs  Valentine  &  Sons. 

The  Convent  on  the  Lake  of  Monteith  .  .         10 

From  a  Photograph  by  Messrs  Valentine  &  Sons. 

Mary  of  Guise        .  .  .  .  .  .11 

From  the  Drawing  by  Janet. 

Mary  at  Nine  Years  Old  .  .  .  .13 

In  the  Collection  of  the  Due  d'Aumale  at  Chantilly.     By  permission 
of  Messrs  Goupil  &  Co. 

Diane  de  Poictiers  .....        14 

The  Dauphin  ......         15 

From  a  Drawing  in  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale. 

The  Cardinal  of  Lorraine  .  .  .  .18 

Francis  of  Lorraine,  Duke  of  Guise     .  .  .20 

From  a  Drawing  by  Dumoustier  (?). 

be 


x  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

To  face  page 

Mary  Stuart  as  a  Child  .....        23 

From  a  Drawing  by  Francois  Clouet. 

Henry  II,  King  of  France  .  .  .  .30 

Le  Deuil  Blanc,  Mary  in  her  Widow's  Dress  .        39 

Catherine  de  Medici         .  .  .  .  .42 

Maitland  of  Lethington  .....        44 
James  Stuart,  Earl  of  Murray  .  .  .  53 

From  a  Picture  at  Holyrood. 

Plan  of  Edinburgh  .....        60 

From  a  contemporary  Drawing  in  the  Ballantyne  Miscellany. 

Palace  of  Holy  Rood  House      .  .  .  .64 

From  a  Sixteenth  Century  Drawing  by  Gordon  of  Rothiemay,  in  the 
Ballantyne  Miscellany. 

Mary  Beaton  .  .  .  .  .  .71 

From  a  Picture  at  Balfour,  Fife.     From  a  Photograph  by  Messrs  G.  W. 

Wilson  &  Co. 

Queen  Elizabeth,  the  "Ermine"  Portrait      .  .         73 

Don  Carlos  ......        79 

Henry,  Lord  Darnley      .  ...»        87 

From  an  original  in  the  Royal  Palace  of  St  James's. 


James  Hepburn,  Earl  of  Bothwell 
Jean  Gordon,  Lady  Bothwell     . 

From  J.  J.  Foster's  "  The  Stuarts"  (from  originals  belonging  to  the 
Hon.  Mrs  Boyle),  by  permission  of  Messrs  Dickinsons. 


103 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS.  xi 

To /ace  page 

Mary's  Chamber  at  Holyrood     .  .  .  .105 

From  a  Photograph  by  Messrs  Valentine  &  Sons. 

Hermitage  Castle.  .  .  .  .  .114 

From  a  Photograph  by  Messrs  Valentine  &  Sons. 

The  House  where  Queen  Mary  lodged  at  Jedburgh        116 

From  a  Photograph  by  Messrs  Valentine  &  Sons. 

Kirk  o'  Field  ......       130 

From  a  contemporary  Plan. 

Loch  Leven  Castle  .  .  .  .  .162 

From  a  Photograph  by  Messrs  Valentine  &  Sons. 

Charles  IX.,  King  of  France      .  .  .  .163 

Wingfield  Manor  ......       206 

From  a  Photograph  by  Messrs  Valentine  &  Sons. 

Bess  of  Hardwick  ......       207 

From  the  Painting  in  the  National  Portrait  Gallery. 

Bolton  Castle        .  .  .  .  .  .212 

From  a  Photograph  by  Messrs  Valentine  &  Sons. 

Henry  III.,  King  of  France  ....  239 
Sheffield  Manor    ......       247 

From  a  Photograph  by  Messrs  Valentine  &  Sons. 

Don  John  of  Austria  .....  248 
The  Earl  of  Morton  .....  254 
Philip  II.,  King  of  Spain  .  .  .  .  .       258 


xii  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

To  face  page 

Tutbury  Castle      .  .  .  .  .  .271 

From  a  Photograph  by  Messrs  Valentine  &  Sons. 

Sir  Francis  Walsingham  .....       275 
The  Trial  at  Fotheringay  ....       294 

From  a  contemporary  Plan.     By  permission  of  Lord  Calthorpe 
and  Messrs  A.  &  C.  Black. 

Sir  Amyas  Paulet  ......      298 

The  Execution  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots        .  .      312 

From  a  contemporary  Plan.     By  permission  of  Lord  Calthorpe 
and  Messrs  A.  &  C.  Black. 

The  Effigy  in  Westminster  Abbey         .  .  .       314 


MARY    STUART 


CHAPTER  I 


THE    MOTHER 


December  1542 — July  1548 

A  NY  one  wishing  to  know  what  the  direct  influence 
**  of  women  would  be  in  the  o-overnino-  of  nations 
has  only  to  make  a  study  of  Western  Europe  in  the 
latter  half  of  the  sixteenth  century.  The  English  throne 
was  occupied  successively  by  two  women  sovereigns, 
and  simultaneously  in  Scotland  a  queen  regent  was 
followed  by  a  queen  in  her  own  right,  while  in  France 
the  widowed  Catherine  of  Medici  swayed  the  wills  and 
directed  the  policy  of  her  two  effeminate  younger  sons 
for  almost  thirty  years. 

The  epigram  of  the  Duchess  of  Burgundy,  that 
the  times  are  happy  when  women  rule  because  then 
men  direct  the  policy,  holds  good  only  in  the  case  of 
Elisabeth,  paradoxically  the  most  imperious  and  self- 
willed  of  the  five. 

Of  these  crowned  ladies,  thus  fatefully  and  fatally 
placed  at  the  head  of  affairs,  none  presents  a  figure 
so  touching,  dignified  and  attractive  as  Mary  of 
Guise ;  none  had  so  difficult  and  thankless  a  task. 
In  her  worst  difficulties  Elisabeth  was  upheld  by 
the  instinct  that  she  had  behind  her  the  life  of  a 
great  people,  the  consciousness  that  she  had  their 
enthusiastic  sympathy.  Neither  the  bitterness  of 
personal  disappointment  nor  the  loneliness  of  un- 
popularity  could   deprive    Mary  Tudor   of  the  con- 


2  MARY  STUART 

solation  of  thinking  herself  God's  chosen  instrument 
to  bring  back  the  English  nation  to  the  true  faith. 
Through  her  long  widowhood  Catherine  gratified  to 
the  full  that  passion  for  power  which  had  been 
famished  and  repressed  during  her  married  life. 

Mary  of  Guise  alone  had  no  personal  ends  to 
serve,  nor  did  she  find  support  and  sympathy  in  her 
lonely  task.  The  end  of  her  unceasing  labours  was 
to  keep  secure  the  inheritance  of  a  child  she  was 
barely  to  see  after  her  seventh  year  ;  she  spent  her 
life  ruling  over  aliens  and  saw  her  early  popularity 
turning  into  suspicion  and  sour  dislike ;  she  tried  to 
hold  Scotland  as  an  appanage  of  France,  and  France 
let  her  die  at  last  besieged  and  defeated,  looking  in 
vain  for  adequate  succours  ;  all  her  actions — her  high 
endeavours  and  her  serious  mistakes,  her  patience 
and  her  dissimulation  alike — were  prompted  by  one 
constant  motive,  devotion  to  the  fortunes  of  France 
and  of  her  daughter. 

The  eight  children  of  Claude  of  Guise — Duke 
Francis  at  the  head  of  the  armies  of  France,  the 
three  younger  brothers  in  their  several  commands  by 
sea  and  land,  the  two  cardinals  in  their  plurality  of 
benefices,  Renee  and  Antoinette  praying  in  their 
convents,  Mary  in  alienated  Scotland  carrying  out 
the  family  policy  in  defiance  of  her  better  judgment, 
were  all  united  in  one  great  aim,  the  glorification  of 
the  House  of  Guise.  This  family  of  magnificent 
adventurers  was  a  cadet  branch  of  the  Dukes  of 
Lorraine,  one  of  those  smaller  semi-royal  houses 
which,  like  Burgundy,  held  now  to  the  Empire  now 
to  France.  Consequently  the  Guises  knew  no  real 
patriotism.  They  gained  victories  at  the  head  of 
French  armies   but  they  recklessly  sacrificed  French 


THE  MOTHER  3 

troops  to  the  visionary  hope  of  gaining  the  crown 
of  Naples  for  their  house.  Though  they  had 
been  the  chief  counsellors  at  the  courts  of  four 
French  kings,  they  owed  no  loyalty  to  the  House 
of  Valois.  They  bore  eight  royal  quarterings  in 
their  arms  and  the  idea  of  founding  a  dynasty 
haunted  the  imagination  of  the  whole  family.  This 
family  destiny  was  only  fulfilled  in  the  persons  of 
Mary  of  Guise  and  her  daughter.  In  her  girlhood 
Mary  Stuart  was  simply  the  flower  in  which  the 
family  tree  had  blossomed. 

Why  Mary  of  Guise  was  chosen  to  play  her 
important  part  in  the  family  fortunes  while  her  two 
sisters  were  suffered  to  spend  their  days  praying  for 
them,  we  are  not  told.  Probably  her  appearance  and 
her  alert,  practical  character  marked  her  out  for  her 
part.  She  had  been  thought  of  at  one  time  as  the 
bride  of  the  French  King,  Henry  II.,  before  his 
brother's  death  raised  him  to  importance.  She  just 
escaped  making  one  in  the  succession  of  Henry 
VIII.'s  wives.  There  is  a  picture  of  her  beside  her 
second  husband  James  V.  The  head  is  small  in 
comparison  with  the  tall  figure  and  pillar-like  throat, 
the  face  firm,  intelligent  and  serenely  friendly>  a  far 
stronger,  happier  face  than  that  of  her  husband.  It  is 
from  her  father  that  Mary  Stuart  inherited  the  fine 
lines  of  her  features,  the  delicate  eyebrows  and  long 
soft  eyes,  but  the  resolve  and  animation  come  from  the 
other  side. 

These  fine  qualities  were  needed  to  carry  Mary 
of  Guise  through  her  troubled  and  anxious  life,  they 
never  secured  her  prosperity  or  tranquillity.  In  the 
quiet  old  home  at  Joinville  her  mother,  the  Duchess 
Antoinette,    had    many  anxious   thoughts   about   the 


4  MARY  STUART 

high-spirited  heavily-laden  daughter  in  Scotland.  In 
one  of  her  simple,  motherly  letters  she  writes  to  her  : 
"  You  have  had  so  little  joy  in  the  world,  and  pain 
and  trouble  have  been  so  often  your  lot,  that 
methinks  you  hardly  know  now  what  pleasure 
means." 

She  can  hardly  have  been  happy  with  James  V. 
She  came  to  Scotland  a  young  widow  of  twenty-three, 
leaving  behind  her  an  only  child  and  the  memory 
of  her  first  short  but  happy  marriage,  to  find  a 
husband  of  twenty-eight  who  had  in  innumerable 
transitory  passions  wasted  a  heart  and  character  richly 
endowed.  The  pathos  and  romance  of  his  marriage 
in  the  previous  year  with  Madame  Madeleine,  the 
consumptive  little  daughter  of  Francis  the  First  who 
died  a  few  weeks  after  landing  in  Scotland,  had 
touched  the  heart  or  at  least  the  sensibility  of  James 
Stuart,  but  the  marriage  with  Mary  of  Guise  was  a 
pure  matter  of  policy.  The  real  true  love  of  his 
fickle  heart  had  been  Janet  Erskine.  He  had  made 
tentative  efforts  to  obtain  her  divorce  from  her 
husband,  Douglas  of  Loch  Leven,  meaning  to  marry 
her  and  thus  to  legitimate  the  son  she  had  borne  him. 
This  son,  James  Stuart,  was  afterwards  to  save  his 
country  and  accuse  his  sister  Mary  as  the  Regent 
Murray.  Had  King  James  succeeded  in  his  plan,  it 
would  have  saved  a  world  of  woe. 

Two  sons  were  born  to  Mary  of  Guise,  but  both 
died  in  babyhood  within  twenty-four  hours  of  each 
other.  James,  worn  out  by  dissensions  with  his 
nobles  and  all  the  difficulties  of  his  short  life  and  lono- 
reign,  saw  in  the  loss  the  judgment  of  Heaven,  and 
it  served  to  deepen  the  depression  and  lassitude  that 
were  settling  down  upon  him.     At  thirty-two,  to  the 


THE  MOTHER  5 

jolly  "  King  of  the  Commons,"  the  popular  "  Gudeman 
of  Ballangeioch,"  life  meant  only  new  difficulties  and 
disappointments  ;  a  strong  and  menacing  uncle  across 
the  Border ;  disaffected  nobles  at  home ;  children  of 
his  begetting  in  other  men's  houses,  but  no  heir  to 
his  throne.  Yet  there  should  have  been  hope.  A 
child  was  expected,  and,  in  the  stately  palace  at 
Linlithgow,  the  queen  was  awaiting  the  event. 

The  king  was  in  the  south,  organising  the  attack 
on  England  that  ended  disastrously  at  Sol  way  Moss. 
Stricken  to  the  heart  with  shame,  and  unable  to  face 
the  new  difficulties  of  the  situation,  he  had  returned 
for  a  week  to  Linlithgow  where,  if  ever,  his  wife 
required  his  presence.  Then,  finding  his  inward 
wound  too  intolerable,  he  crept  off  by  himself  to 
Falkland. 

Never  was  woman  in  more  desolate  case  than 
Mary.  She  was  alone  in  a  strange  land,  her  husband 
was  dying,  indifferent  to  her  and  to  the  child  she  was 
to  bring  him  ;  men  talked  of  little  but  defeat  and  the 
fears  of  invasion,  even  the  earth  was  bound  in  an 
early  and  vigorous  winter.  Under  such  conditions 
Mary  Stuart  was  born  on  the  8th  of  December  1542. 
Hardly  the  birth  of  a  son  would  have  roused  James 
from  his  sorrowful  apathy ;  the  news  of  the  birth  of 
a  daughter  only  deepened  his  gloom :  "  Devil  go 
with  it,"  he  muttered.  "It  came  with  a  lass,  it  will  go 
with  a  lass." 

It  was  Cardinal  Beaton  who  brought  the  news 
of  her  husband's  death  to  Mary  at  Linlithgow.  The 
two  were  firm  allies,  the  cardinal  was  "as  good  a 
Frenchman  as  she  was  a  Frenchwoman."  It  was 
rumoured  that  in  those  early  days  they  had  put  their 


6  MARY  STUART 

heads  together  and  had  secretly  sent  to  the  French 
king  for  aid.  Women  in  those  days  had  little  time 
or  peace  to  mourn  their  husbands ;  and  never  were 
woman  and  child  more  surrounded  by  enemies  and 
dangers  than  Mary  and  her  baby  queen.  France 
was  many  days'  journey  away,  the  Scotch  nobles 
were  hostile  or  at  least  suspicious,  and  across  the 
Border,  like  the  ogre  in  a  fairy-tale,  was  Henry  VIII. 
It  amounted  to  an  obsession,  this  desire  of  Henry's  to 
profit  by  his  nephew's  death,  to  seize  the  strongholds 
of  Scotland,  and  to  gain  possession  of  the  child. 
Once  he  had  her  in  England,  betrothed  to  his  young 
son,  he  hoped  to  be  practically  Governor  of  Scotland. 
By  the  end  of  January  all  the  prisoners  taken  at 
Solway  Moss  were  sent  back  deeply  pledged  to  forward 
Henry's  policy  at  any  cost  of  patriotism  and  honour. 

Much  as  Mary  dreaded  the  English  alliance  for 
her  child,  another  danger  seemed  nearer  and  more 
urgent.  The  next  heir  to  the  throne,  the  Earl  of 
Arran,  had  been  appointed  governor.  A  stupid, 
vacillating  mediocrity,  he  was  not  formidably  ambitious, 
but  his  nearness  to  the  throne  was  the  one  fact  of  any 
importance  to  him,  and  this  made  him  eager  to  let  no 
chance  go  past.  He  made  proposals  for  a  marriage 
between  the  little  queen  and  his  seven  year  old  son. 
Such  proposals  were  repugnant  to  the  French  queen 
mother  but  she  dissimulated  and  received  them  diplo- 
matically. Once,  years  later,  when  falsely  accused  of 
a  breach  of  faith  in  her  policy,  she  likened  herself  to  a 
little  bird  constrained  to  build  herself  a  nest  as  a 
"bield"  from  her  foes;  and  certainly  in  the  winter  of 
1543  she  might  have  compared  herself  to  a  wild  bird 
using  all  her  cunning  to  keep  her  enemies  from  her 
nest.     To   deceive   both    Henry   and  Arran   and,    if 


THE  MOTHER  7 

possible,  to  sow  distrust  between  them  was  a  game 
that  required  patience  and  deftness.  Her  one  friend 
the  cardinal  was  powerless  to  help.  The  first  action 
of  the  "  Enelish  Lords"  on  their  return  had  been  to 
embolden  the  governor  to  throw  his  rival  into 
prison. 

When  in  March,  Sadler,  the  English  Ambassador, 
brought  the  formal  proposal  of  marriage  from  Henry 
VIII.  the  queen  dowager  received  it  with  apparent 
cordiality,  and  took  the  opportunity  to  discredit  Arran. 
"'The  governor,'  quoth  the  queen,  'said  that  the 
child  was  not  like  to  live,  but  you  shall  see  whether 
he  saith  truth  or  not.'  Therewith  she  caused  me 
to  go  with  her  to  the  chamber  where  the  child  was 
and  showed  her  unto  me,  and  also  caused  the  nurse  to 
unwrap  her  out  of  her  clothes  that  I  should  see  her 
naked.  I  assure  your  Majesty  it  is  as  goodly  a  child  as 
I  have  seen  of  her  age  and  as  like  to  live  with  the  grace 
of  God."  Forty-three  years  later  Sadler  was  among 
the  judges  who  condemned  the  Queen  of  Scots  to  death! 
Dissimulation  and  a  patient  waiting  on  circumstance 
were  the  only  policy  possible  for  the  queen  mother. 
Henry  was  urgent  with  his  adherents  to  kidnap  the 
two  queens  or,  better  still,  the  child  without  the 
mother.  Edinburgh  Castle  was  too  near  the  Border 
to  be  safe ;  it  was  probably  for  security  that  Arran 
kept  them  virtually  prisoners  at  Linlithgow. 

Nothing  in  the  short  history  of  Mary  Stuart's 
reign  in  Scotland  is  more  romantic  than  the  number 
of  sudden  flights  she  was  constrained  to  make, 
hasty,  unexpected  rides  through  summer  dawns  or 
the  blackness  of  winter  nights.  The  first  of  such 
flights  was  when,  in  July  (1543),  the  cardinal  and  his 
party — the    cardinal    was    again   at    liberty    and    re- 


8  MARY   STUART 

establishing  his  ascendency — carried  off  the  two  queens 
from  under  the  very  hands  of  the  Hamiltons  and 
conveyed  them  to  Stirling.  Meantime  the  marriage 
contract  between  Henry  and  the  governor  had  been 
signed,  with  no  great  alacrity  on  the  side  of  the  Scots. 

The  child  was  to  be  handed  over  to  her  grand- 
uncle  at  the  age  of  ten.  If  force  were  used  to 
get  possession  of  her  before  that  age,  Sir  George 
Douglas  informed  Sadler  that  the  women  would  rise 
with  their  distaffs  and  the  small  boys  would  hurl 
stones  against  English  intruders.  When  such  is 
the  temper  of  one  of  the  contracting  parties,  any 
accident  or  delay  is  sure  to  be  fatal  to  the  transaction. 
Hostages  to  be  sent  to  England  were  not  readily 
come  by  ;  the  governor  suddenly  and  without  explana- 
tion rode  off  to  join  the  cardinal  ;  Henry  lost  his 
temper  and  arrested  Scotch  merchant  ships  in  his 
harbour.  Since  the  death  of  the  Maid  of  Noroway 
there  had  been  no  such  opportunity  of  uniting  the  two 
kingdoms  ;  it  was  lost  by  the  impatience  of  the  Tudor 
temper.  On  the  ioth  of  September  the  child  was 
crowned  at  Stirling.  Sadler  sneers  at  the  lack  of 
costly  ceremonial,  and  indeed  Coronations  were  not 
very  joyous  affairs  in  Scotland.  Three  infants  in 
succession,  Mary,  her  father  and  her  son,  were  all 
crowned  in  seasons  of  blackest  national  anxiety.  In 
spite  of  an  attack  of  smallpox  in  the  spring,  the  little 
one  flourished  at  Stirling.  The  mother  with  playful 
fondness  noted  this  to  Sadler.  "  The  queen  told  me 
that  her  daughter  did  grow  apace,  and  soon  she  would 
be  a  woman  if  she  took  after  her  mother,  who  indeed 
is  of  the  largest  size." 

While  she  grew  and  throve,  various  sinister 
influences  were  at  work  shaping  her  destiny.     In  the 


THE  MOTHER  9 

gossiping  pages  of  Pitscottie  we  read  that  two  Scottish 
nobles  were  rivals  for  the  hand  of  Mary  of  Guise, 
Patrick,  Earl  of  Bothwell,  and  Matthew,  Earl  of 
Lennox,  a  curious  anticipation  of  the  tragic  situation 
of  twenty-four  years  later.  Mary  entertained  both 
with  diplomatic  courtesy,  but  "  having  been  a  king's 
wife  her  heart  was  too  high  to  look  any  lower." 
Unlike  all  the  other  widowed  queens  of  Scotland, 
her  predecessors,  she  never  allowed  passion,  nor 
vanity  nor  personal  weakness  to  complicate  the 
difficult  situation. 

The  presence  of  Lennox  was  in  itself  a  complica- 
tion. A  rival  claimant  to  the  throne  with  Arran,  he 
had  been  brought  from  France  by  the  cardinal  as 
a  menace  and  counterweight  to  the  governor.  The 
reconciliation  of  those  two  heads  of  opposing  factions 
and  the  firm  attitude  of  the  dowager  sensibly 
diminished  Lennox's  importance.  Chagrined  and 
knowing  no  motive  but  self-interest  he,  in  the  autumn 
of  1543,  sold  himself  to  Henry.  He  used  his  credit 
with  the  envoys  sent  from  France  to  seize  arms  and 
money  landed  at  Dumbarton.  For  this  treachery  his 
lands  were  confiscated  and  he  himself  was  exiled  for 
more  than  twenty  years  from  Scotland.  As  a  reward 
for  his  services  Henry,  in  the  next  year  (1544),  gave 
him  in  marriage  the  Lady  Margaret  Douglas,  daughter 
of  Margaret  Tudor,  widow  of  James  IV.  and  of 
Douglas,  Earl  of  Angus,  the  hereditary  enemy  of  the 
Stuarts.  His  nearness  to  the  Scottish  throne — Arran 
the  other  claimant  was  of  doubtful  legitimacy ; — her 
close  relationship  to  the  Royal  Family  of  England; 
her  claims  to  the  confiscated  estates  of  the  Douglas  ; 
his  embittered  regrets  for  the  forfeited  lands  of 
Lennox — here  were  elements  to  produce  a  hungry, 


10  MARY  STUART 

restless,  intriguing  household  life ;   and  in  this  home 
Darnley,  Mary's  future  husband,  was  to  grow  up. 

The  five  first  years  of  Mary's  life  are  filled  with 
invasions,  lawlessness  and  the  treachery  of  Scottish 
noblemen.  In  this  turmoil  we  lose  sight  of  the 
widowed  Queen  and  her  child.  The  guardians  of 
the  little  Queen,  Lindsay,  Livingston,  Erskine  and 
Montrose  held  themselves  ready  at  a  moment's  notice 
to  carry  her  off  to  a  place  of  safety.  Once,  with  the 
English  foeman  within  reach  of  Stirling,  she  was 
hurried  off  to  Dunkeld  in  the  inaccessible  Highlands. 
In  1547  the  battle  of  Pinkie  almost  repeated  the 
disaster  of  Flodden.  Then,  also,  men  asked  one 
another  when  the  English  invader  would  be  at  their 
gates.  The  child  was  sent  off  to  the  island  convent 
on  the  lake  of  Monteith,  on  the  Borders  of  the 
Highlands. 

Because  no  other  place  connected  with  Mary  is 
free  from  associations  of  pain  and  fear,  modern 
imagination  has  dwelt  fondly  on  the  picture  of  the 
six-year-old  child  in  that  peaceful  place,  fancying 
pleasant  things  hardly  compatible  with  her  short 
wintry  visit.  At  least  there  was  freedom  from  alarm 
and  the  child  had  merry  company  in  the  four  little 
Maries,  chosen  as  her  attendants  from  the  loyal  houses 
of  Beaton,  Livingston,  Fleming  and  Seton.  If  the 
old  French  soldier  of  fortune  who  a  few  months  later 
accompanied  the  child  to  France,  described  her  as 
"the  most  perfect  child  in  the  world,"  one  may  be 
sure  that  the  good  leisurely  monks  of  Monteith  were 
equally  charmed  and  amused  by  their  little  guest. 

Mary  of  Guise  had  profited  by  the  national  fear  of 
England  and  hatred  of  Somerset  to  draw  closer  the 
alliance    with    France.     The   point   she    had   always 


T 


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MARY   OF  GUISE 


THE  MOTHER  11 

aimed  at  was  attained  when  in  July  1548,  she  per- 
suaded the  council  and  governor  to  consent  to  the 
little  Queen  being  affianced  to  the  Dauphin,  and  sent 
her  off  at  once  to  be  brought  up  in  France  out  of  reach 
of  the  rough  wooing  of  the  English  Protector. 

Quickly,  secretly,  the  departure  was  arranged.  A 
French  fleet  sailed  out  of  the  Forth,  then  swept  round 
the  north  of  Scotland  and  put  in  again  at  Dumbarton. 
It  was  a  large  party  that  went  on  board  ;  the  four 
Maries  accompanied  the  queen  as  well  as  several  of 
her  half-brothers  and  the  governor's  children.  Mary 
was  under  the  care  of  her  governess,  Lady  Fleming, 
her  father's  half-sister,  a  merry,  pretty  woman  curiously 
lacking  in  the  discretion  necessary  for  her  post. 

Here  the  story  must  follow  the  child  to  France, 
to  prosperity  and  happy  days,  leaving  the  childless 
mother  to  carry  on  her  troublesome  task  alone.  The 
old  Duchess  of  Guise  knew  what  it  meant  to  part 
with  a  child  across  the  seas.  She  wrote  pitying  her 
daughter  for  her  sorrow  in  the  parting,  "  But  at  least 
you  must  hope  that  this  loss  of  your  child  will  mean 
rest  and  repose  for  the  little  creature."  .  .  .  She  adds 
the  fervid  hope  that  she  herself  may  see  her  daughter 
again  before  she  died.  She  was  to  live  to  mourn  not 
only  that  daughter's  death,  but  the  imprisonment  of 
the  little  granddaughter  she  was  so  eager  to  welcome. 
Her  own  badly-spelled  letters  reveal  in  Mary  of  Guise 
not  only  indomitable  courage — that  she  shared  with 
most  of  her  family — but  a  tender-hearted  perception 
of  suffering:  that  she  had  learned  in  her  own  troubled 
life.  She  complains  of  the  depredations  of  the  French 
soldiers  on  the  Scotch  peasant,  she  knows  the  ruin 
brought  on  them  by  ruthless  requisition,  she  grieves 
over  their  tables  and  chairs  seized  on  for  fuel.     Of  her 


12  MARY  STUART 

own  severe  sufferings — the  sciatica  which  was  the 
consequence  of  constant  night  alarms  and  hasty  pre- 
parations— she  speaks  cheerfully  and  without  self- 
pity.  One  lingers  the  more  willingly  in  her  company 
because  we  shall  find  no  other  character  of  such  worth 
and  attraction  in  the  whole  history  of  her  daughter. 

Note. — While  these  chapters  are  passing  through  the  press  my 
attention  has  been  called  to  a  delightful  anecdote  of  the  baby  Queen. 
When  she  was  only  three  or  thereabouts,  Cardinal  Beaton  entered  the 
room  where  she  was,  apparently  in  his  red  robes.  In  sudden  terror  the 
child  cried  out,  "  Kill  Redeaton  !  Kill  Redeaton  !  He  will  take  me 
away."  The  rhyme  that  was  running  in  the  quick-witted  little  creature's 
head  was  the  old  Scottish  nursery  tale  : 

"  The  red  Etin  of  Ireland, 
He  lived  in  Ballygan, 
He  stole  King  Malcolm's  daughter, 
The  King  of  fair  Scotland  ; 
He  beats  her,  he  binds  her 
He  lays  on  her  a  band, 
And  every  day  he  dings  her 
With  a  bright  silver  wand." 

To  us  who  know  Queen  Mary's  history  even  her  baby  prattle  has  a 
strangely  ominous  ring. 

Another  new  discovery  is  that,  on  her  voyage  to  France,  she  alone  of 
her  company  was  free  from  sickness — she  was  child  enough  to  laugh  at 
her  neighbours  {Balcarres  Papers). 


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X 


MAin    AT    I  UK   AGE   OF    NINE 


CHAPTER  II 


AT    THE    FRENCH    COURT 


July  1548— 1557 

THE  brilliance  and  corruption  of  the  French  court 
at  which  Mary  was  brought  up  is  so  much  a 
commonplace  of  history  that  there  is  a  strong  tempta- 
tion to  find  it  false.  It  may  at  least  be  conceded  that 
the  court  of  Henry  II.  was  neither  so  brilliant  as  the 
court  of  his  father  Francis  I.  nor  was  it  by  any  means, 
as  coarse,  cruel  and  corrupt  as  it  became  later  when 
the  widowed  Catherine  bore  sway  during  the  reigns 
of  her  sons. 

Catherine  played  indeed  no  greater  part  at  the  court 
of  her  husband  than  she  had  played  during  her  father- 
in-law's  lifetime.  She  was  merely  the  mother  of  the 
king's  children  ;  whatever  consideration  she  received 
at  his  hands  she  owed  to  the  careless,  secure  kindness, 
and  sense  of  decorum  of  her  rival  Diane  de  Poictiers. 
Beautiful,  with  a  peculiar,  white,  smooth  beauty,  this 
remarkable  woman  kept  her  hold  on  the  dull  heart  of 
her  royal  lover  to  the  end  of  his  days.  She  ruled  his 
life,  his  court,  his  policy,  superintended  his  children's 
education  and  dictated  his  behaviour  to  his  wife.  It 
has  been  finely  said  of  her  that  her  influence  was 
blighting  and  unfruitful  as  that  of  the  moon  which  she 
adopted  as  her  symbol. 

A  few  years  before  Henry's  accession  evangelical 
religion  had  been  in  vogue  in  his  household  ;  the 
psalms  of  Clement  Marot  were  on  every  tongue.     But 

13 


14  MARY  STUART 

soon  religious  liberalism  shrunk  before  the  dangers 
and  difficulties  of  Reform  ;  the  French  court  definitely 
chose  the  line  of  reaction  and  persecution.  The  love 
of  serious  study  and  the  patronage  of  literature  was 
represented  by  the  second  Madame  Margaret  of 
France,  the  learned  sister  of  Henry  II.,  the  patroness 
of  Ronsard.  The  love  of  art  that  had  glorified  the 
court  of  Francis  survived  chiefly  in  the  arts  that  adorn 
luxury  and  pomp,  splendid  architecture,  applied  to 
royal  residences,  delicate  jewelry,  and  sumptuous 
bindings,  and  finely  printed  books. 

With  a  self-control  that  does  her  no  honour, 
Catherine  acquiesced  in  her  abasement  before  the 
favourite.  Her  passion  for  power,  thwarted  and 
repressed,  instinctively  sought  to  raise  up  means  of 
influence  through  her  children.  From  the  time  they 
emerged  from  childhood  till  they  were  married  she 
caused  her  elder  daughters  Madame  Elisabeth  and 
Madame  Claude  to  sleep  in  a  room  within  hers  and 
to  know  no  authority  nor  influence  but  her  own.  She 
terrorised  her  daughters;  Margaret — the  third  Madame 
Margaret  of  France — the  youngest  and  most  spirited 
of  the  children,  has  recorded  that  her  mother's  eye 
upon  her  struck  a  chill  of  fear  to  her  heart. 

Of  her  father,  the  king,  her  reminiscences  are 
charmingly  genial.  She  describes  herself  at  the  age 
of  five  as  sitting  on  his  knee  and  discussing  her  boy 
lovers. 

The  royal  children  had  an  establishment  of  their 
own,  and  it  was  an  amiable  trait  in  the  king  that  he 
liked  to  pay  them  visits  when  "he  could  have  them 
all  to  himself."  He  showed  the  greatest  eagerness 
to  see  the  little  Queen  of  Scots  when  in  August  1548 
she  arrived  at  St  Germain-en-laye  where  the   court 


DIANE   OF   POICTIERS 


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THE    DAUPHIN 


AT  THE  FRENCH  COURT  15 

was  residing.  He  was  enchanted  with  the  beautiful 
child.  According  to  Brantome  she  spoke  in  her 
native  speech,  rendering  its  harshness  musical  by  her 
sweet  voice.  Nor  did  she  suffer  from  shyness.  "  I 
find  her  and  the  Dauphin  as  familiar  as  if  they  had 
known  each  other  all  their  lives,"  wrote  the  king.  It 
was  probably  the  delicate  little  boy  of  four  and  a  half 
who  required  most  to  be  put  at  his  ease. 

Diseased  and  mean-looking  from  his  birth  Francis, 
like  many  another  frail  little  boy,  had  an  imagination 
preoccupied  with  the  romance  of  weapons  and  of 
warfare.  There  is  a  pretty  letter  dictated  by  him 
at  the  acre  of  five  in  which  he  thanks  the  Duke  of 
Guise  for  the  gift  of  a  little  suit  of  armour  and 
challenges  him  to  a  single  combat.  In  this  he  hopes 
to  have  the  favour  "d'une  dame  belle  et  honnete  qui 
est  votre  niece." 

The  brilliant  beauty  and  vitality  of  Mary  Stuart 
distinguished  her  from  the  ailing,  neurotic  children 
of  Catherine.  Though  the  four  little  Scottish  Maries 
were  removed  for  a  time  that  she  might  the  quicker 
learn  French,  she  had  no  lack  of  companions.  Thirty- 
seven  children  of  the  nobility  shared  the  studies  and 
sports  of  the  children  of  France.  So  large  a  party 
involved  an  army  of  household  servants.  Twelve 
butlers  with  ten  assistants  looked  after  the  cellars,  the 
kitchen  staff  amounted  to  over  fifty,  wardrobes  and 
stables  were  manned  on  a  similar  scale.  It  throws 
a  curious  light  on  the  habits  of  the  time  that  there 
was  but  one  water-carrier  for  all  this  crowd,  while,  in 
some  years,  only  two  laundresses  accomplished  all  the 
washing  required.  Doctors  and  apothecaries  were 
attached  to  the  household,  and  one  could  wish  that  a 
place  had  been  found  near  Mary's  person  for  a  certain 


16  MARY  STUART 

honest  Scotch  doctor,  named  William  Bog,  warmly- 
recommended  to  Mary  of  Guise.  The  letter  of 
recommendation  insists  on  the  importance  of  a  doctor 
who  could  "diagnose  Scotch  temperament" — "You 
know  what  a  difference  there  is  between  a  doctor  of 
one's  own  country  and  a  foreigner.  My  friend  besides 
being  of  that  nation  is  both  a  skilful  druggist  and 
doctor,  and  above  all  a  lover  of  religion  and  of  his 
country's  liberty."  Mary  was  at  all  times  familiarly 
kind  and  affectionate  with  those  of  her  own  household  ; 
a  good,  wise,  middle-class  Scotchman  like  the  excellent 
Bog  might  have  given  her  an  insight  into  "  Scottish 
temperament"  and  their  "love  of  their  country's 
liberty "  which  would  have  saved  her  from  fatal 
blundering.  Almoners,  priests,  confessors  made  part 
of  the  household,  also  tutors  and  masters  of  music 
and  dancing. 

Classical  learning  was  in  those  days  one  of  the 
privileges  of  princesses  and  noble  ladies.  They  were 
supposed  to  read  and  write  Latin,  to  know  enough 
Greek  to  justify  the  presence  of  fine  editions  on  their 
bookshelves  and  to  talk  the  languages  of  the  principal 
European  courts.  Now  as  these  royal  and  noble 
ladies  were  often  married  at  the  age  of  twelve  and 
were  little  older  when  they  appeared  at  court,  a  great 
deal  of  education  must  have  been  compressed  into 
these  early  years,  even  if  tutors  were  complacent  and 
ready  to  make  a  royal  road.  The  eternal  prerogative 
of  childhood,  the  right  to  be  a  child,  was  fatally  denied 
to  all  those  poor,  important  little  ladies. 

In  an  age  of  learned  women,  Mary  was  no  prodigy. 
She  had  not  the  pure  love  of  letters  of  Jane  Gray,  nor 
could  she,  like  Elisabeth,  exchange  courtesies  in  Greek 
with  heads  of  colleges.     But  with  her  fine  wit  and 


AT  THE  FRENCH  COURT  17 

high  spirit  she  took  kindly  to  her  studies.  She  had 
to  write  priggish  little  Latin  themes,  moral  reflections 
on  the  duties  of  princes ;  even  copy  books  were  made 
to  minister  to  that  self-importance  which  cruelly 
robbed  little  royalties  of  "  the  first  garden  of  their 
simpleness."  At  thirteen  she  entertained  king  and 
court  by  an  harangue  in  Latin,  and  though  the  argu- 
ments might  be  the  arguments  of  her  tutor  the  voice 
and  manner  were  the  same  that  years  after  forced  her 
Scottish  subjects  to  exclaim,  "  Vox  Dianae.  .  .  .  Was 
there  ever  orator  spake  so  properly  and  so  sweetly  ?  " 
Still  greater  was  the  charm  of  her  intimate  conversa- 
tion. Even  as  a  child  she  would  entertain  the  king 
by  her  wise  and  witty  conversation,  "just  like  a  woman 
of  five  and  twenty,"  writes  the  exultant  Cardinal  of 
Lorraine. 

The  encouragement  of  learning,  the  patronage  of 
poets,  even  the  practice  of  verse-making  and  especially 
the  collecting  books  in  beautiful  bindings,  were  all 
fashions  in  vogue  at  court.  We  have  still  an  inventory 
of  the  books  Mary  brought  to  Scotland  with  her, 
books  which  the  ignorant  carelessness  of  Murray  and 
Morton  suffered  to  be  dispersed  and  destroyed. 
Among  these  books  many  are  of  a  religious  com- 
plexion, controversial  as  well  as  devotional.  One  is 
surprised  to  find  Calvin's  Institutes  among  them,  but 
the  cardinal  was  determined  that  his  niece  should 
know  the  reformed  doctrines  so  as  to  be  able  to  refute 
them.  It  was  not  from  his  mother  that  James  VI. 
was  to  inherit  his  passion  for  theological  subtleties. 
"  She  could  not  reason,"  she  once  told  Randolph,  "but 
she  knew  what  she  ought  to  believe  " — an  unassailable 
position  into  which  many  a  simple  gentlewoman  is 
glad   to  follow   her !     If  she  did  not  readily  commit 


18  MARY  STUART 

herself  to  her  own  confession  of  faith,  she  had  an 
instinct  for  the  weak  places  in  her  adversaries'  argu- 
ment that  no  dialectic  could  have  bettered. 

Religious  orthodoxy  was  one  of  the  assets  of  the 
Guises.  The  old  Duchess  Antoinette — in  her  private 
relations  a  faithful,  tender-hearted  woman — carried  on 
religious  persecution  on  her  estates  with  single-minded 
conviction.  Her  two  daughters  were  abbesses  of 
convents.  The  cardinal,  the  churchman,  though  a 
materialist  and  worldling,  recognised  the  advantage 
to  his  house  of  being  the  acknowledged  champions 
of  Catholicism,  but  the  soldier,  Duke  Francis,  had  in 
addition  to  the  family  orthodoxy  some  genuine  religious 
instinct.  He  could  pause  in  the  heat  of  battle  to  urge 
a  dying  comrade  to  make  his  peace  with  God. 

Her  uncles  therefore  saw  to  it  that,  in  Mary's 
education,  "God  was  worshipped  after  the  old  fashion." 
Loyalty,  in  Mary's  nature,  was  so  strong  a  virtue  that 
it  redeems  even  the  sins  that  have  been  laid  to  her 
door.  The  same  faithfulness  she  showed  to  her  kins- 
folk, her  friends  and  the  humblest  of  her  servants,  she 
showed  also  to  the  religion  in  which  she  had  been 
brought  up.  "The  religion  which  I  profess,"  she  was 
to  assure  Throckmorton  on  the  eve  of  her  departure 
for  Scotland,  "  I  take  to  be  most  acceptable  to  God  ; 
neither  do  I  know  or  desire  to  know  any  other.  Con- 
stancy becometh  all  folk  well  but  none  better  than 
princes  .  .  .  and  especially  in  matters  of  religion." 
Only  once  in  her  life  was  she  to  waver  in  this  constancy. 
It  is  the  measure  of  her  infatuation  for  Both  well  that 
she  consented  to  marry  him  with  Protestant  rites. 

A  larger  space  on  Mary's  shelves  was  occupied  by 
classical  than  by  religious  books.  Most  of  the  Latin 
classics  and  a  creditable  number  of  Greek  are  in  this 


mU"    ■>         — 

CAROLVS    CARDINALIS 


H  4^ 


THL   CARDINAL   OF   LORRAINE 


AT  THE  FRENCH  COURT  19 

fascinating  collection.  History  too  is  largely  repre- 
sented. She  had  a  special  liking  for  this  study. 
When  she  was  in  Scotland  she  read  portions  of  Livy 
every  day  with  Master  George  Buchanan.  In  captivity 
the  English  Chronicles  were  her  favourite  reading. 

It  is,  however,  to  the  lighter  volumes,  the  romances 
and  poetry,  that  one  turns  to  learn  what  one  can  of 
Mary's  personal  tastes.  Probably  the  best  loved  of  her 
books  and  the  most  frequently  read  were  the  volumes 
of  contemporary  French  poetry.  The  two  most  im- 
portant poets,  Joachim  du  Bellay  and  Ronsard,  were 
attached  by  special  ties  to  Mary.  Du  Bellay  had  been 
on  board  the  ship  that  brought  her  as  a  child  from 
Scotland.  As  a  page  Ronsard  had  accompanied  her 
father's  first  wife,  Queen  Madeleine,  to  Scotland.  In 
the  dulness  of  a  long  winter  at  Holyrood  he  made  his 
first  acquaintance  with  Homer.  The  courtly,  gray- 
haired  poet  had  a  special  kindness  for  the  Scottish 
queen.  In  the  most  conventional  of  Ronsard's  verses 
there  is  a  charm  fresh  and  sweet  and  rich  as  of  a 
summer  garden.  He  addresses  many  poems  to  Mary; 
he  praises  her  fair,  slender  hands,  her  white  body 
born  in  spring  among  sister  lilies  ;  when  she  goes 
away  he  likens  France  to  a  field  despoiled  of  its 
flowers,  a  wood  stripped  of  its  green  mantle,  a  ring 
that  has  lost  its  precious  stone. 

Mary  herself  wrote  verses  as  a  graceful  pastime ; 
a  fatal  pastime  it  was  to  prove,  luring  Chastelard  on 
to  fatuous  presumption  and  weaving  evidence  against 
herself  and  Bothwell.  Among  her  books  is  "  Ane 
book  of  French  sonnettes  in  writ."  One  wonders  if 
these  were  her  own  or  Chastelard's.  She  had  several 
volumes  of  romances,  nine  at  least  of  Amadis  of  Gaul, 
Ogier  the  Dane,  Launcelot  of  the  Lake  and  others, 


20  MARY  STUART 

mostly  apparently  in  Italian.  These  endless  fantastic 
stories  into  which  Spanish  and  Italian  fancy  had 
elaborated  the  earlier  mediseval  tales,  were  evidently  as 
familiar  to  the  young  people  of  the  French  court  as  the 
stories  of  "  Ivanhoe  "  and  "  The  Talisman"  to  children 
of  our  day.  The  Venetian  ambassador  gives  a  pretty 
picture  of  Mary  and  the  Dauphin,  and  the  other  noble 
children  playing  at  these  romances  in  the  glades  of  a 
wood.  There  were  also  lighter  tales  in  Mary's 
library,  the  "  Decameron,"  the  "  Heptameron,"  and 
collections  like  "  Le  jardin  de  Plaisance  "  and  "  La 
mer  des  Histoires." 

These  tales  her  ladies  would  read  aloud  to  her 
while  she  worked,  for  the  slender  hands — "  votre 
longue  et  gresle  et  delicate  main  "  is  Ronsard's  lovely 
phrase — were  rapid  and  skilful  in  all  sorts  of  needle- 
work. Some  of  her  embroidery  is  still  in  existence. 
We  can  still  touch  the  gauntlet  embroidered  for 
Darnley,  the  leading  strings  she  made  for  her  baby  at 
Stirling,  the  altar  cloth  she  sewed  in  the  long  winter 
at  Loch  Leven.  She  touched  her  lute  delicately, 
though  Melville  acknowledges  with  less  skill  than 
Elisabeth.  Dancing  in  that  age  was  a  serious  art, 
half-dramatic  and  wholly  rhythmical  and  stately,  and 
Mary  excelled  in  dancing. 

Hunting  was  a  passion  with  the  Valois  kings. 
Frail  little  Francis  was  to  wear  out  his  courtiers  in  the 
field  as  relentlessly  as  his  vigorous  grandfather.  From 
an  early  age  the  royal  children  followed  the  chase  on 
their  little  "haquenes."  We  even  know  the  names 
of  Mary's  favourite  horses ;  Bravane  and  Madame 
Real. 

The  cardinal  directed  Mary's  education  in  all  points. 
Her  diet,  her  jewels,  her  servants,  all  received  minute 


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FRANCIS   OF   LORRAINK,    DUKE   OF    GUISE 
(Diaitousticr  ?) 


AT  THE  FRENCH  COURT  21 

attention.  He  was  the  friend  and  close  ally  of  Diane 
de  Poictiers ;  between  him  and  the  Queen  there  was 
mutual  suspicion  and  constant  tacit  opposition.  It 
was  with  the  aim  of  withdrawing  her  from  Catherine's 
influence  that  he  persuaded  his  sister  to  give  her 
daughter  a  separate  establishment.  Thus  at  the  age 
of  twelve  Mary  began  her  lifelong  task  of  assuaging 
jealousies,  reconciling  enemies,  distributing  favours, 
reading  character  and  keeping  a  wary  reticence  under 
the  sweet  frankness  of  her  manners. 

There  is  a  letter  to  her  mother  written  when  she 
was  fifteen,  full  of  the  perplexities  of  her  position.  Lady 
Fleming  was  no  longer  her  governess,  Catherine  and 
Diane  had  been  equally  resolved  that  the  fascinating 
Scottish  lady  should  remain  no  longer  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  susceptible  king.  The  French 
governess  who  succeeded  her  was  elderly,  ailing, 
jealous  and  a  mischief-maker.  She  had  taken  umbrage 
at  Mary's  open-handedness.  "  A  man's  life  consisteth 
not  in  the  things  that  he  hath,"  but  there  are  many 
women  who  out  of  their  possessions  create  much 
of  the  charm  and  individuality  of  their  lives.  We 
read  with  mere  amusement  of  the  three  thousand 
dresses  left  by  Queen  Elisabeth,  or  of  the  cloth  of 
gold  under  which  Margaret  of  Navarre  could  hardly 
walk,  but  Mary  Stuart's  possessions  seem  to  keep  the 
warmth  of  her  touch,  the  charm  of  her  personality. 
Her  jewels  are  curiously  interwoven  with  her  history. 
The  gross  of  buttons  with  Diana's  crescent  moon  in 
black  and  white ;  Elisabeth's  diamond  heart  worn  as 
her  sole  ornament  at  a  Twelfth  Night  party  at  Holy- 
rood  ;  the  diamond  ring  left  to  Darnley  because  "  with 
this  ring  he  married  me "  ;  the  mourning  ring  with 
white    enamel    tears,    sent    to    Bothwell ;   the   "great 


22  MARY  STUART 

Harry,"  the  diamond  Lady  Murray  embezzled  and 
refused  to  part  with  ;  have  these  not  all  the  romance  of 
magical  gifts  in  a  fairy-tale  ?  There  is  something  of 
the  same  witchery  even  in  her  clothes.  This  is  partly 
due  to  the  generous  habit  she  had  of  distributing  them 
to  her  friends  and  servants.  Later  on  her  French 
stores  at  Holyrood  were  to  provide  wedding  gowns 
and  holiday  suits  for  all  her  friends,  but  even  as  a 
child  she  had  this  habit  of  open-handed  giving.  This 
it  was  that  excited  the  irritable  jealousy  of  Madame 
de  Paroy.  Probably  there  was  an  unwritten  etiquette 
which  gave  certain  perquisites  to  the  governess,  and 
this  Mary  chose  to  disregard.  Yet  the  special  act 
of  generosity  was  innocent  enough.  She  had  be- 
stowed her  robes  to  make  altar  cloths  in  the  two 
convents  where  her  aunts  presided.  Later  on  she  was 
to  reverse  the  process  and  cut  up  beautiful  old  altar 
cloths  to  make  doublets  for  Bothwell. 


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MARY  STUART  AS  A   Gl  1:1 


CHAPTER  III 

MARRIAGE    WITH    THE    DAUPHIN 

April  1558 — December  1560 

A  S  early  as  1557  when  Mary  was  only  fifteen  and 
-L*-  the  Dauphin  younger,  the  French  king  was 
eager  for  the  marriage. 

During  the  whole  sixteenth  century  the  external 
policy  of  France  knew  one  principal  aim,  to  counter- 
balance the  power  of  Spain.  Now  Philip  of  Spain  by 
his  marriage  with  Mary  Tudor  had  added  strength  to 
his  position.  It  secured  him  a  safe  passage  at  all  times 
to  his  possessions  in  the  low  countries,  it  placed  the 
ships  and  armies  of  England  at  the  disposition  of 
Spain.  The  French  king  was  forced  to  find  a  counter- 
weight in  a  closer  alliance  with  Scotland. 

Ignoring  the  passionate  jealousy  of  the  Scots  of 
all  foreign  domination,  Frenchmen  were  slipping  into 
the  habit  of  looking  on  Scotland  as  an  appanage  of 
the  French  crown.  Mary  of  Guise  had  her  instructions 
to  rule  on  this  supposition.  When  in  1551  she  paid 
her  one  visit  to  her  own  country,  she  was  received 
with  enthusiasm  as  a  good  soldier  might  be  who  was 
holding  a  dangerous  frontier  post.  Before  the  year 
was  out  her  proud,  irritable,  suspicious  Scotch  follow- 
ing were  quarrelling  with  their  French  hosts  and  the 
king  was  weary  of  a  guest  whose  affairs  required  so 
much  help  financial  and  diplomatic.  It  was  the  last 
time  Mary  of  Guise  saw  her  daughter.  In  1554  Mary, 
having  been  declared  of  age,   appointed  her  mother 

23 


24  MARY  STUART 

Regent  in  Scotland.  Arran,  the  governor  had 
accepted  the  affront,  at  the  price  of  various  bribes. 
The  French  king  had  bestowed  on  him  the  title  of  the 
Duke  of  Chatelherault.  Henceforth  we  shall  hear 
him  generally  styled  "  the  Duke." 

The  queen-mother's  rule  failed  as  signally  in  its 
best  right  endeavours  as  in  its  worst  mistakes.  She 
lost  popularity  by  her  efforts  to  enforce  law  and  order. 
"  The  people  used  to  love  me  and  now  they  wish  I 
were  dead,"  she  wrote  once  to  her  brothers  with  clear, 
sad  perception.  Tolerant  by  nature  she  yet  never 
departed  from  her  brother's  instructions,  and  when,  in 
1555,  Knox  first  crystallised  the  dispersed  Protestants 
into  a  coherent  party,  she  placed  herself  firmly  in  op- 
position. But  her  most  fatal  mistake  was  that  she 
bestowed  all  the  posts  of  importance  on  Frenchmen, 
thus  embittering  most  of  the  Scottish  nobility.  In 
1556  the  cardinal  was  urgent  that  she  should  come 
to  France  to  arrange  the  preliminaries  of  Mary's 
marriage,  but  the  state  of  affairs  in  Scotland  did  not 
permit  of  her  absence. 

In  1558  the  star  of  the  Guises  was  resplendent. 
Duke  Francis  had  checked  the  victorious  march  of 
Spain  on  French  soil  and  had  wrested  Calais  from  the 
English,  thus  healing  a  wound  in  the  national  honour 
that  had  been  bleeding  for  two  centuries.  In  a  further 
respect  the  loss  of  Calais  to  the  English  had  heightened 
the  value  of  the  Scotch  alliance.  Mary  Tudor  had 
received  a  blow  under  which  neither  her  gloomy  spirit 
nor  her  wearied  body  seemed  able  to  bear  up ;  Mary- 
Tudor  dying  childless  would  leave  a  disputed  succes- 
sion and  men  began  to  speculate. 

No  Catholic  could  regard  the  daughter  of  Anne 
Bullen    as   legitimate,   and   Mary   Stuart,   the  grand- 


MARRIAGE  WITH  THE  DAUPHIN     25 

daughter  of  Margaret  Tudor  and  great  granddaughter 
of  Henry  VII.,  was  next  in  succession.  One  can 
imagine  the  glad  excitement  with  which  Mary  Stuart 
began  to  recognise  herself  as  heir  to  a  third  crown. 
She  was  old  enough  and  high-spirited  enough  to  know 
the  part  she  had  to  play  in  the  fortunes  of  her  House, 
for  at  this  time  all  her  loyalty  belonged  to  the  Guises. 
Scotland,  remote  both  in  space  and  in  childish  memory, 
was  only  valuable  for  what  it  enabled  her  to  bestow. 

In  the  autumn  of  1557  the  Scottish  parliament  had 
consented  to  the  marriage ;  in  the  following  April 
eight  commissioners,  bishops  and  lords  (and  among 
them  the  Lord  James  Stuart,  Mary's  half-brother) 
were  sent  from  Scotland  to  represent  their  country  and 
to  safeguard  its  liberties.  The  country  was  to  keep 
its  independence  and  to  be  ruled  by  its  own  "  lovable 
laws  and  customs  "  ;  failing  Mary  the  crown  was,  in 
simple  justice,  to  pass  to  the  Duke  of  Chatelherault 
and  his  heirs.  The  agreement  was  signed  with  the 
less  demur  that  there  was  no  intention  of  carrying  out 
the  provisions  of  it.  Several  days  before  Mary  had 
signed  three  papers.  One  of  these,  in  the  case  of  her 
dying  without  children,  made  over  Scotland  and  her 
prospective  rights  in  England  unconditionally  to  the 
French  king.  Another  undertook  that  the  king  should 
be  reimbursed  for  all  his  expenses  in  the  defence  of 
Scotland  during  Mary's  minority.  In  a  third  Mary 
disavowed  any  agreement  that  might  be  come  to  with 
the  Scotch  commissioners.  These  commissioners  were 
all  strangers  to  Mary  ;  there  was  no  one  near  her  to 
warn  her  that  nations — least  of  all  the  Scottish  nation 
— were  not  property  that  could  be  passed  from  hand  to 
hand  like  jewels,  no  one  to  call  up  in  her  any  loyal  or 
romantic  feeling  about  the  kingdom   of  her  fathers. 


26  MARY  STUART 

On  one  point  the  commissioners  were  firm,  they  refused 
to  grant  Francis  the  crown  matrimonial,  which  would 
have  put  his  authority  in  Mary's  kingdom  on  an 
equality  with  hers.  The  sudden  death  of  four  of  the 
commissioners  at  Dieppe  from  "  Italian  posset  or 
French  figs "  was  sinisterly  interpreted,  but  there 
seems  no  adequate  motive  for  such  an  atrocity  unless 
some  of  them  were  supposed  to  have  learned  the 
nature  of  Mary's  secret  convention  with  the  French 
king. 

The  marriage  of  Mary  and  the  Dauphin,  joyous 
and  prolonged  like  any  other  royal  wedding,  is  to  us 
chiefly  noticeable  from  the  contrast  it  forms  with  the 
curiously  hasty  marriage  with  Darnley,  and  that 
ominous  early  morning  in  May,  when  in  defiance  of 
her  people  and  the  disillusionment  of  her  own  heart, 
she  plighted  her  troth  to  Bothwell.  This  first 
marriage  at  least  was  triumphant,  offering  the  fairest 
prospects.  Henry  II.  "joyeux  et  humain"  made  the 
wedding  party  show  themselves  to  the  populace  of 
Paris,  a  populace  always  devoted  to  the  brilliant 
Guises.  The  princes  and  nobles  who  played  their 
parts  in  the  evening  pageant  were  all  young,  all  kins- 
folk or  familiar  friends.  One  thing  only  was  ominous. 
Half  way  through  the  banquet  the  bride  com- 
plained of  the  weight  of  her  crown  and  had  to  lay 
it  aside. 

In  the  following  November  Mary  Tudor  died  and, 
unquestioned,  Elisabeth  ascended  the  throne.  Henry 
II.  might  listen  complacently  to  court  poets  prophesy- 
ing that  his  daughter-in-law  would  have  : 

"  une  couronne  encore  derechef 
Pour  joindre  ensemble  a  la  terre  ecossaise," 

but   impoverished  by  the  wars  with   Spain  and  en- 


MARRIAGE  WITH  THE  DAUPHIN     27 

grossed  in  suppressing  heresy  in  his  own  dominions, 
he  could  only  reserve  his  right  of  remonstrance  to 
another  day.  Meanwhile  he  signified  his  protest 
by  causing  the  Dauphiness  and  her  husband  to 
assume  the  arms  of  England  quartered  with  those 
of  France  and  Scotland.  These  arms  were  flaunted 
at  tournaments  and  on  other  public  occasions.  All 
through  her  life  Mary  was  to  pay  for  this  idle 
decoration. 

On  April  2,  at  Cateau  Cambresis  a  peace  was 
patched  up  which  included  Spain,  France,  England 
and  Scotland.  Mary  signing  the  special  treaty 
between  England  and  Scotland  subscribed  herself 
Queen  of  Scotland,  England  and  Ireland.  Cardinal 
Granvelle  and  the  Duke  of  Alva  exchanged  smiles, 
"This  will  cause  new  trouble  before  long,"  said  one 
to  the  other. 

Troubles  indeed  were  rising  for  Mary  in  more 
quarters  than  one.  For  some  years  past  a  certain 
forcible,  fervid,  iron-grey  minister  had  been  at  Geneva 
absorbing  from  John  Calvin  the  scheme  of  salvation, 
and  revolving  in  his  own  passionate  Scottish  heart 
democratic  views  of  the  rights  of  nations  and  the 
limits  of  the  authority  of  princes.  The  importance 
of  Knox,  "the  Reformer  of  a  Kingdom,"  is  out  of 
all  proportion  to  that  of  other  persons  in  the  story. 
His  was  to  be  a  living  influence  in  the  national 
life  of  Scotland  long  after  Mary  and  Darnley  and 
Bothwell  were  dust,  and  their  loves  and  sorrows 
and  sins  a  tale  that  is  told.  In  that  tale  indeed 
Knox  was  to  play  a  part  —  the  part  of  a  deter- 
mined and  pitiless  opponent.  More  than  any  one 
he  was  to  stand  between  the  young  Queen  and  any 
chance   she   might   have   had   of  understanding   her 


28  MARY  STUART 

people.  His  passionate  rancour  against  her  justifies 
her  failing  to  give  a  patient  hearing  to  the  religion  he 
taught. 

It  was  as  the  author  of  a  pamphlet  pouring  con- 
tempt on  her  sex  and  impugning  her  right  as  a  queen 
that  Mary  first  heard  of  Knox.  Driven  from  England 
by  the  persecution  under  Mary  Tudor,  resentful  of  a 
personal  offence  given  him  by  Mary  of  Guise,  angrily 
suspicious  of  his  own  young  Queen  and  her  bringing 
up,  he  had  swept  them  together  in  a  common  con- 
demnation and  had  blown  his  Blast  against  "the 
Monstrous  Regiment  of  Women."  On  the  ioth  of 
May  1559  Knox  was  back  in  Scotland.  At  the  end 
of  the  month  came  sudden  ominous  news  to  the 
French  court.  The  Protestant  lords  and  preachers 
had  drawn  to  a  head,  menacing  rebellion ;  among  the 
"rascal  multitude"  rebellion  had  practically  broken 
out.  At  Perth,  Knox's  sermon  had  been  followed  by 
the  destruction  of  altars  and  the  sacking  of  convents 
and  churches. 

No  one  among  the  reforming  party  pretended 
that  they  aimed  at  obtaining  toleration  for  their 
opinions.  They  meant  to  overthrow  the  existing 
order  of  things  in  the  Church,  and  to  expel  idolatry. 
They  might  for  the  present  keep  up  forms  of  respect 
for  the  temporal  power,  but  that  power  would  be  no 
check  upon  their  action.  Names  of  weight  were  in- 
volved ;  the  Queen's  half-brother  Lord  James  and  the 
Earl  of  Argyle  were  the  strength  of  the  reforming 
party.  The  Duke  of  Chatelherault,  too  stupid  to 
hold  convictions  either  way,  still  hung  dubious.  His 
son  Arran  was  still  in  France,  a  Captain  in  the  Scots 
Guards ;  and  Mary — whose  habit  of  prompt  action  was 
so  often  to  disconcert  her  enemies — sent  at  once  to 


MARRIAGE  WITH  THE  DAUPHIN     29 

have  him  arrested.  A  strange,  moody,  excitable 
creature,  Arran  had  little  personal  weight,  but  in 
certain  contingencies  he  would  inherit  the  Scottish 
throne.  He  was  young  and  a  Protestant,  and  politic 
heads  both  in  England  and  Scotland  were  already 
speculating  on  the  possibility  of  a  marriage  which 
might  unite  the  two  kingdoms  in  defiance  of  Catholic 
Europe.  Throckmorton,  the  English  ambassador, 
contrived  to  smuggle  him  across  the  frontier  to 
Geneva,  where  his  ill-balanced  nature,  ready  for  any 
fanaticism,  eagerly  adopted  extremest  Calvinism. 

The  suppression  of  rebellion  in  Scotland  would 
have  fallen  in  fitly  with  Henry's  larger  scheme  of 
repressing  heresy  in  his  own  kingdom.  At  last 
there  was  peace  between  the  kingdoms  of  France 
and  Spain.  If  each  government  were  at  leisure  to 
order  religious  questions  in  their  several  dominions, 
the  future  of  Protestantism  would  be  black  indeed. 
Fortunately  the  jealousy  of  the  two  powers  was  too 
deep-rooted  to  be  removed  by  treaty  or  alliance 
or  even  by  common  religious  interests.  Madame 
Elisabeth,  Mary's  best-loved  play-fellow,  had  carried 
the  olive  branch  between  the  two  countries  when,  a 
mere  child,  she  was  married  to  Philip  II.,  the  most 
forbidding  of  bridegrooms.  The  marriage  of  his 
second  little  daughter,  Madame  Renee,  had  been  a 
triumph  for  the  Guises,  for  the  bridegroom  was  the 
head  of  their  house,  the  Duke  of  Lorraine.  In  June 
Henry  was  celebrating  the  marriage  of  his  sister 
Madame  Margaret  with  the  Duke  of  Savoy.  Vain  of 
his  dexterity  and  prowess,  Henry  tempted  fate  in  the 
lists  till  a  splinter  from  the  lance  of  a  reluctant  opponent 
entered  his  brain  and  dealt  a  mortal  wound. 

When  courts  are  ruled  by  favourites  an  inevitable 
and  indecent  hurry  attends  the  death  of  kings.     The 


30  MARY  STUART 

Guises  could  hardly  await  Henry's  latest  breath.  In 
the  middle  of  the  night  they  roused  young  Francis 
from  his  bed  to  receive  their  homage  ;  by  the  next 
morning  the  young  couple  had  their  cue,  and  Mary 
was  prepared  "de  faire  le  bee"  at  the  Connetable  and 
his  nephews  and  the  other  favourites  of  the  late  king. 
These  were  left  to  pay  the  last  honours  to  dead 
royalty  while  their  triumphant  rivals  hurried  the  royal 
party  off  to  the  Louvre.  Stricken  with  genuine  grief 
and  draped  in  heavy  mourning  the  queen-mother  was 
about  to  step  into  the  carriage  after  her  son,  but  even 
in  that  moment  her  instinct  of  etiquette  recognised 
that  her  place  was  changed,  and,  stepping  back,  she 
motioned  to  her  daughter-in-law  to  go  first.  Catherine 
was  the  more  punctilious  in  her  behaviour  to  Mary 
because  of  the  rancour  she  bore  her. 

During  the  years  when  she  had  been  abased  and 
ignored  she  had  amassed  experience,  gained  patience 
and  tenacity,  and  learnt  the  weaknesses  and  secrets  of 
all  about  her.  The  Guises  were  to  discover  with 
dismay  the  strength  of  her  veiled  opposition,  the 
subtlety  and  shamelessness  of  her  intrigues.  Towards 
her  daughter-in-law  her  hostility  had  a  personal  edge. 
Mary  Stuart  had  her  tongue  and  her  manners  in 
such  prudent  control  that  when  she  spoke  out  reck- 
lessly and  freely — as  she  did  on  several  occasions 
in  her  life — it  was  with  the  deliberate  purpose  to 
wound.  "  Once,"  writes  the  Venetian  ambassador, 
"she  told  her  mother-in-law  that  she  would  never 
be  anything  but  a  merchant's  daughter."  In  her 
dealings  with  Queen  Elisabeth  also,  Mary  never 
forgot  that  she  herself  was  royal  or  noble  to  the 
last  of  her  quarterings,  while  Elisabeth  was  but  Anne 
Bullen's  daughter.     She  could  comment  with  edge  on 


'   : 
HENRY    II,   KING   OF    FRANCE 


MARRIAGE  WITH  THE  DAUPHIN     31 

Elisabeth's  undignified  love  affairs  or  her  bursts  of 
plebeian  temper.  She  intended,  doubtless,  that  her 
biting  jest  on  Elisabeth's  fatuous  flirtation  with  Lord 
Robert  Dudley  should  reach  her  cousin's  ears. 
"The  Queen  of  England"  she  said,  "was  about  to 
marry  her  groom  who  had  killed  his  wife  to  make 
room  for  her."  It  was  in  later  times  a  satisfaction  to 
Catherine  and  Elisabeth  that  policy  constantly  dictated 
the  duty  of  thwarting  the  schemes  of  the  sister  queen 
whose  victorious  grace  and  confident  high-breeding 
was  an  implicit  insult  to  both. 

There  was  little  joy  and  brilliance  in  the  eighteen 
months  of  Mary's  queenship  in  France.  Catherine's 
heavy  black  robe  and  sour  face  were  a  cloud  on  the 
court.  The  rivals  of  the  Guises  had  withdrawn  them- 
selves suspicious  and  resentful.  The  cardinal  was 
controller  of  finance ;  the  duke  was  head  of  the 
forces  ;  Mary's  will  dominated  the  little  king  ;  yet  the 
policy  of  the  three  was  ineffective.  In  Scotland 
the  arrival  of  an  efficient  French  force  would  have 
stamped  out  the  rebellion  in  the  autumn  of  1559. 
So  half-hearted  and  suspicious  of  one  another  were 
many  of  the  lords  of  the  congregation  that  with  a 
small  contingent  of  trained  men  the  regent  was 
keeping  them  in  play.  She  wrote  urgently  for 
effective  help,  but  the  Guises,  being  soldiers  and 
diplomatists,  not  statesmen,  were  dazzled  with  larger 
ambitions  and  missed  their  opportunity.  The  army 
they  meant  to  send  to  Scotland  was  to  be  on  such  a 
scale  that  it  could  proceed  to  invade  England  and 
make  good  their  niece's  claim  to  the  crown.  Such 
a  force  took  time  to  prepare.  A  fleet  had  to  be 
brought  round  from  the  Mediterranean.  Meanwhile 
English  statesmen   took  alarm  and  compelled  their 


32  MARY  STUART 

reluctant  Queen  to  give  aid  to  the  protestant  lords, 
at  first  secretly,  then  more  or  less  openly. 

There  was  a  curious  irony  in  the  position  of 
Elisabeth.  As  despotic  a  monarch  as  her  father  and 
as  devout  a  believer  in  the  duty  of  passive  obedience 
as  her  successor,  her  constant  policy,  from  the  force 
of  circumstance,  was  to  support  rebellion  against 
neighbouring  governments,  now  in  Scotland,  now  in 
France,  now  in  the  Low  Countries.  Her  religious 
convictions  were  still  to  seek  but  her  taste  and 
intelligence  were  all  on  the  side  of  a  reasonable 
Catholicism,  yet  she  was  to  find  her  allies  among 
the  extreme  Protestants  whose  views  political  and 
religious  she  abhorred. 

All  pretence  of  peace  between  the  two  queens  had 
worn  thin  by  the  end  of  the  year.  The  congregation 
were  openly  placing  themselves  under  Elisabeth's 
protection.  Money  and  men  were  filtering  into 
Scotland.     The  regent  had  been  formally  deposed. 

Arran  with  his  new-fangled  Genevan  fanaticism 
had  added  the  weight  of  his  position  to  the  Protestant 
party.  The  project  of  his  marriage  with  Elisabeth 
was  taking  definite  shape  in  many  minds  and  behind 
it  were  visions  of  a  united  kingdom,  an  established 
Protestant  Church,  Scotland  loosened  from  the 
French  alliance,  and  Mary  and  her  authority  whistled 
down  the  wind.  English  ships  were  in  the  Forth 
before  Mary's  uncle  d'Elboeuf  had  completed  his 
preparation.  When  at  length  his  fleet  started,  a  winter 
storm  scattered  and  destroyed  his  ships ;  only  a  hand- 
ful under  the  gallant  Martigues  arrived  in  the  Forth. 

In  her  bitter  disappointment  and  resentment 
Mary  wished  to  send  out  another  expedition  forth- 
with and  to  head  it  in  person.     But  before  any  steps 


MARRIAGE  WITH  THE  DAUPHIN     33 

were  taken  unforeseen  dangers  and  difficulties  of  their 
own  were  closing  round  the  Guises.  Their  rule  was 
detested  on  all  hands.  Persecution  and  the  dread  of 
harsher  measures  were  rousing  the  Huguenots  to  plans 
of  self-defence.  English  gold  was  secretly  passing 
amongst  them ;  the  English  ambassador  was  in 
their  confidence.  The  peace  had  let  loose  hordes  of 
idle,  penniless  officers  and  soldiers.  The  greed  of 
the  Cardinal  refused  to  recognise  their  claims,  his 
cowardice  forbade  their  access  to  court.  Here  were 
elements  enough  of  discontent  and  disorder.  In 
February  the  king  hunting  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Blois,  came  on  a  band  of  such  lawless,  landless  men. 
The  Cardinal  was  demoralised  by  fear.  He  insisted 
on  the  court  removing  up  the  Loire  to  the  safer 
retreat  of  Amboise.  Sailing  in  barges  up  the  river 
gay  ladies  and  cavaliers  enlivened  the  time  with 
pageants  and  masques  and  singing,  while  in  the  back- 
ground the  forces  of  misery  and  disorder  were  silently 
drawing  up  against  them.  It  reads  like  a  scene  out 
of  the  "  Decameron."  But  such  forces  unfortunately 
are  generally  impotent  against  the  compact  order  of 
tyrannical  authority. 

The  conspiracy  of  Amboise,  this  menacing 
combination  of  many  elements  of  discontent  against 
the  hated  House  of  Guise,  failed  through  treachery  and 
lack  of  cohesion.  Fair  promises  were  made  to  the 
conspirators  when  they  appeared  formidable  at  the 
very  gates  of  Amboise,  promises  broken  in  dastardly 
fashion  on  the  morrow.  Duke  Francis  crushed  the 
rebellion,  but  in  the  wholesale  cold-blooded  executions 
which  followed  we  trace  the  panic-stricken  cruelty  of 
the  Cardinal.  The  very  Chancellor,  who  had  con- 
demned the  conspirators,  turned  on  him  at  last  with 


34  MARY  STUART 

"  wicked  Cardinal,  you  damn   yourself  and  all  of  us 
along  with  you." 

By  an  ingenuity  of  cruelty  the  victims  were 
brought  out  for  execution  in  front  of  the  palace 
windows  "to  afford  pastime  to  the  ladies."  Ranged 
at  their  ease,  as  at  a  play,  the  boy  princes  and  the 
royal  ladies  watched  men  die — brave  and  righteous 
men  among  them — without  any  sign  of  pity  or  horror. 
Only  one  woman's  voice  was  heard  pleading  for 
mercy,  that  of  Anne  d'Este,  the  wife  of  Duke  Francis. 
Nothing  that  Mary  was  to  find  of  lawlessness  and 
cruelty  in  her  own  country — not  even  the  murder  of 
Riccio  in  a  queen's  chamber — can  compare  with  this 
surfeit  of  human  agony.  Nerves  and  imagination 
^  trained  in  a  more  humane  and  reasonable  age  need 
not  attempt  to  understand  how  a  girl  like  Mary 
Stuart — generous  and  pitiful  in  all  private  relations — 
looked  on  at  horrors  so  ghastly  even  in  narrative. 
Years  later  Knollys  was  to  say  of  her — but  it  was 
after  she  had  suffered  bitter  wrong — "  She  desires 
above  all  things  to  be  revenged  of  her  enemies."  Of 
the  starving  soldiers  defrauded  of  their  pay,  and  citizens 
persecuted  for  their  religion,  she  only  knew  what  her 
uncles  told  her,  that  they  were  enemies  who  aimed  at 
her  life  and  the  lives  of  her  husband  and  uncles. 

But  there  was  another  side  to  the  Guises.  They 
inflicted  death  ruthlessly  but  (with  the  exception  of 
the  Cardinal),  they  could  meet  it  fearlessly.  To  the 
best  of  them,  to  Duke  Francis,  to  Mary  of  Guise  and 
to  her  daughter,  death  was  less  an  ill  they  had  to 
endure  than  a  deed  they  had  to  carry  through  with 
honour.  Neither  the  last  magnanimous  hours  of  the 
murdered  Francis  at  Orleans,  nor  the  anxious  hours 
at  Jedburgh   when    Mary    Stuart   deliberately   faced 


MARRIAGE  WITH  THE  DAUPHIN     35 

death  and  gave  her  calm  considerate  directions,  were 
so  touching  as  the  lonely  death  of  Mary  of  Guise  in 
Edinburgh  Castle  in  the  June  of  this  year  (1560). 

In  the  clear  light  which  approaching  death  some- 
times throws  upon  the  perplexities  of  life,  she 
admitted  that  her  policy  might  have  been  mistaken, 
was  reconciled  to  her  enemies,  received  with  courtesy 
the  Protestant  preacher  intruded  on  her,  but  quietly 
and  faithfully  received  the  last  consolations  from  her 
own  church. 

The  news  of  her  death  had  been  known  at  the 
French  court  for  ten  days  before  any  one  ventured 
to  tell  the  young  Queen,  and  so  vehement  was  her 
grief  that  she  fell  seriously  ill.  "  She  loved  her 
mother  incredibly,  much  more  than  daughters  usually 
do,"  writes  the  Venetian  ambassador  sympathetically. 
The  causes  for  which  Mary  of  Guise  had  fought,  the 
French  alliance  and  the  Catholic  faith,  were  lost  causes 
in  Scotland.  On  the  6th  of  July  a  peace  was  con- 
cluded between  the  French  plenipotentiary  on  the  one 
hand,  and  Sir  William  Cecil  and  Dr  Wotten  and 
their  Scottish  allies  on  the  other.  Of  necessity  it  was 
an  irregular  triangular  sort  of  treaty.  With  one  clause 
in  it  we  shall  grow  so  tediously  familiar  in  the  course 
of  the  story  that  it  is  necessary  to  understand  what 
it  involved.  Mary  and  her  husband  were  "in  all 
times  coming  to  abstain  from  bearing  the  title  and 
arms  of  the  kingdom  of  England  or  Ireland."  At 
every  juncture  the  English  government  were  to  urge 
the  ratification  of  the  treaty,  at  every  juncture  Mary 
found  plausible  reasons  for  delaying  it.  Her  claim 
on  the  English  crown  was  the  highest  card  in  her 
hand.  Various  possible  events  might  upset  the  throne 
of  the  illegitimate  and  usurping  Elisabeth ;  her  own 


36  MARY  STUART 

Catholic  subjects  might  rise  against  her  ;  some  change 
in  European  politics  might  induce  Philip  to  withdraw 
his  protection  from  the  Protestant  Queen.  The  words 
"in  all  times"  might  be  taken  to  debar  Mary  and  her 
children  from  their  lawful  succession  in  case  of 
Elisabeth  dying  childless,  and  Mary  affected  to 
believe  that  the  words  were  used  in  this  sense.  Later 
on,  Lord  James  was  to  propose  a  reasonable  com- 
promise. Mary  was  to  renounce  all  claim  to  the 
English  throne  while  it  was  occupied  by  Elisabeth 
or  any  lawful  children  she  might  have,  and  in 
return,  Elisabeth,  failing  offspring  of  her  own,  was 
to  acknowledge  Mary  and  her  children  as  next  in 
succession. 

Elisabeth  was  as  obstinate  in  the  matter  of  the 
succession,  as  Mary  in  that  of  the  ratification.  In 
the  first  place,  Gloriana  could  not  bear  to  think  of 
herself  as  mortal,  or  to  imagine  England  with  any 
other  monarch  but  herself.  It  would  be  like  hanging 
up  her  winding  sheet  to  name  a  successor,  she  told 
Lethington  peevishly.  In  the  next  place  to  nominate 
a  Catholic  successor  would  have  been  to  give  a  head 
and  purpose  to  all  the  restless  and  discontented 
elements  in  the  country  ;  a  very  real  danger.  Finally, 
whatever  her  own  wishes  had  been,  men  like  Cecil, 
Bedford  and  Bacon  would  have  persistently  and 
successfully  opposed  the  nomination  of  the  Scottish 
Queen. 
j  On   this  deadlock  between  the   two  queens,    the 

tragedy  of  Mary's  life  was  to  hinge. 


CHAPTER  IV 

LE    DEUIL    BLANC 
December  1560 — August  1561 

T3ETWEEN  partnership  with  her  uncles  in  their 
■■— "  bid  for  power  and  vigilant  attention  to  the 
actions  of  her  mother-in-law,  Mary  Stuart  acquired 
that  cool  knowledge  of  men  and  affairs  which  was  to 
astonish  English  politicians.  She  had  not  been  two 
months  in  Scotland  before  Randolph  was  to  find  that 
"  all  the  policy  in  all  the  chief  and  best-practised 
heads  in  France ;  whatso  craft,  falsehood  or  deceit 
there  is  in  all  the  subtle  brains  in  Scotland  is  either 
fresh  in  that  woman's  memory  or  she  can  bring  it 
back  with  a  wet  finger." 

She  knew  courts,  she  knew  nothing  of  national 
life.  It  was  the  most  serious  of  her  misfortunes  that 
with  a  heart  so  generous,  a  spirit  so  frank  as  hers,  she 
was  never  to  lose  (and  in  losing  to  find)  her  own  life 
in  oneness  with  the  life  of  her  people.  Still  more 
curious  was  the  contrast  between  her  precocious 
knowledge  of  the  world  and  her  ignorance  of  her 
own  nature,  its  passions  and  instinct  of  self-surrender. 
She  had  grown  up  among  the  Guises  ;  she  knew 
no  plan  of  life  other  than  the  one  they  followed  so 
consistently.  She  could  not  suspect  that  her  own 
nature  was  more  Stuart  than  Guise.  Beneath  her 
prudence  and  ambition  lay  that  reckless  romance 
which  impelled  more  than  one  member  of  her  race 

to  wreck  cause  or  kingdom  for  the  sake  of  passion. 

37 


38  MARY  STUART 

She  was  a  Stuart,  but  it  was  not  for  nothing  that 
her  grandmother  had  been  the  sister  of  Henry  VIII. 
The  coarser  Tudor  elements,  the  infatuation  of  love 
chafing  at  delay  or  obstacle,  the  bursts  of  unrestrained 
anger,  the  unbridled  violence  of  speech,  these  only 
emerged  once  or  twice  in  the  life  of  Mary,  but  they 
were  the  fatal  elements  of  her  character. 

In  her  dignified  and  prosperous  youth,  these 
hidden  forces  only  showed  in  delicate  and  lovable 
instincts.  She  was  warmly  affectionate,  with  a  need 
and  infinite  capacity  for  devoting  herself  to  those  she 
loved.  Her  childish  letters  to  her  mother  eagerly 
protest  her  love  and  obedience.  It  is  curious  to  find 
the  same  desire  to  follow  another's  will,  in  the  letters 
addressed  to  Norfolk,  in  that  last  and  most  shadowy 
of  Mary's  love  affairs.  It  is  because  this  note  is  so 
emphatic  and  reiterated  in  the  Casket  Letters  that 
one  doubts  the  capacity  of  the  forger  to  catch  any- 
thing so  subtly  characteristic. 

She  seems  to  have  accepted  her  first  marriage  as 
the  women  of  her  time  and  rank  mostly  did,  simply  as 
a  means  to  greatness.  The  marriage  did  not  last 
long.  Francis  had  suffered  chronically  from  a  painful 
and  repulsive  malady.  The  insanely  long  hunting 
expeditions,  which  were  his  one  form  of  energy,  kept 
him  in  a  constant  state  of  fever.  In  November  1560, 
the  court  was  at  Orleans.  Great  events  were  pend- 
ing ;  the  Guises  were  playing  for  high  stakes  ;  their 
rival,  the  Prince  de  Conde,  was  in  prison,  condemned 
to  death ;  his  brother,  the  King  of  Navarre,  was  in 
daily  fear  of  arrest.  Suddenly  Francis  fell  alarmingly 
ill.  The  Guises  concealed  the  gravity  of  the  situation  ; 
day  and  night  they  were  in  attendance  ;  their  hurried 
meals  were  served  in  an  anteroom.     There  is  nothing 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


-    ilua^K- 


LE    DEU1L    BLANC 

MARY    IN    HEU    u H  'S    DRESS 


LE  DEUIL  BLANC  39 

so  hideous  as  rivalries,  suspicions  and  stifled  dislike 
meeting  in  a  sickroom.  Night  after  night  with  bitter 
ceremoniousness  Mary  and  Catherine  disputed  the 
right  to  watch  by  the  dying  boy  lying  speechless  and 
troubled  between  them.  On  the  night  of  the  fifth 
December,  Francis  died.  At  midnight  Catherine 
called  a  meeting  of  council,  the  Guises  secured 
themselves  in  their  lodgings,  the  Bourbons  breathed 
again,  courtiers  hastened  to  transfer  their  allegiance 
and  the  widowed  girl  of  eighteen  was  left  with 
the  dead.  The  Venetian  ambassador  —  the  same 
who  had  sympathetically  noted  Mary's  sorrow  for 
her  mother — wrote  now,  "So  by  degrees  every  one 
will  forget  the  death  of  the  late  king  except  the 
young  Queen  who  is  no  less  noble-minded  than 
beautiful." 

On  the  following  day  with  dignified  promptitude 
Mary  restored  the  royal  diamonds  to  her  brother-in- 
law,  assumed  the  white  mourning  of  a  Queen  of 
France  and  shut  herself  up  for  forty  days  in  rooms 
draped  with  black  and  lighted  only  by  torches.  She 
had  life  to  begin  all  over  again  ;  she  was  just  eighteen, 
and  the  world — her  world — had  strangely  changed  in 
twenty-four  hours.  The  young  husband  she  had 
lost  had  been  her  play-fellow,  he  had  loved  her,  and, 
in  spite  of  the  inequality  of  their  natures  she  had  felt 
affection  for  him.  There  is  a  little  poem  of  hers, 
singularly  melodious  and  tender,  written,  so  Brantome 
tells  us,  on  this  occasion. 

She  writes  of  herself  as  one  : — 

"  Qui  en  mon  doux  printemps 
Et  fleur  de  ma  jeunesse 
Toutes  les  peines  sens 
D'une  extreme  tristesse 


40  MARY  STUART 

Et  en  rien  n'ai  plaisir 
Qu'en  regret  et  desire 
*  *  #  * 

Si  en  quelque  sejour 
Soit  en  bois  ou  en  pre 
Soit  sur  l'aube  du  jour 
Ou  soit  sur  la  vespree 
Sans  cesse  mon  coeur  sent 
Le  regret  d'un  absent." 

But  the  chief  part  of  her  sorrow  was  unaffected 
regret  that  she  had  fallen  from  her  great  estate,  her 
main  anxiety  was  how  to  order  her  affairs — and  in  her 
case  this  meant  the  bestowal  of  herself  in  marriage 
— that  she  might  recover  her  position.  It  was  at  this 
moment  that  Elisabeth  was  outraging  the  feelings  of 
her  responsible  servants  by  her  flirtation  with  Dudley. 
Throckmorton,  her  ambassador  in  France,  was  not 
unwilling  to  point  a  moral  at  his  mistress  when  he 
wrote  of  Mary,  "  She  more  esteemeth  the  continuation 
of  her  honour  and  to  marry  one  that  may  uphold  her 
to  be  great  than  she  passeth  to  please  her  fancy." 
The  prudence  and  dignity  of  the  white  young  widow 
impressed  Throckmorton,  but  what  appealed  most 
strongly  to  him  as  a  straightforward,  high-spirited  man, 
often  galled  by  Elisabeth's  caprice  and  disloyalty,  was 
her  modesty,  the  fact  that  she  thought  herself  "  not  to 
be  too  wise  but  is  content  to  be  ruled  by  good  counsel 
and  wiser  men."  Perhaps  Throckmorton  admired 
this  womanly  dependence  less  when  Mary  resisted 
both  him  and  Bedford  urging  the  ratification  of  the 
Treaty  of  Leith  on  the  plea  that  she  could  take  no 
step  without  consulting  her  Scottish  council. 

It  soon  became  clear  to  Mary  that  there  was  no 
place  for  her  at  the  French  court.  She  was  of  no 
further  use  to  her  uncles,  nay,  if  their  only  chance  lay 


LE  DEUIL  BLANC  41 

in  affecting  an  alliance  with  Catherine,  the  presence  of 
the  rival  dowager,  young,  beautiful  and  sure  of  a  train 
of  followers,  would  embarrass  their  action.  A  visit  to 
her  sister-in-law,  the  prosperous  self-satisfied  little 
Duchess  of  Lorraine,  convinced  Mary  how  little  she 
herself  was  fitted  to  take  a  second  place.  Even  in 
the  first  weeks  a  crowd  of  possible  suitors  all  over 
Europe  were  turning  their  eyes  towards  Joinville 
whither  the  young  widow  had  withdrawn  with  her 
grandmother. 

Beautiful,  self-confident  and  accustomed  from 
childhood  to  the  foremost  place,  Mary  imagined 
nothing  lower  than  the  world-wide  empire  which 
marriage  with  the  heir  of  Spain  would  secure  for  her. 
For  five  years  her  imagination  was  dazzled  by  hopes 
of  this  foremost  position  in  Europe ;  if  she  ever 
thought  of  inquiring  into  the  personal  qualities  of  the 
Spanish  prince,  diplomatic  reticence  must  have  been 
complete,  for  at  no  point  was  she  deterred  by  the  con- 
sideration that  Don  Carlos  was  a  degenerate  imbecile. 
Two  more  of  her  suitors  were  to  end  in  madness, 
Eric,  King  of  Sweden  and  the  Earl  of  Arran.  The 
latter,  recently  rejected  by  Elisabeth,  hastened  on  the 
first  opportunity  to  lay  his  heart  at  his  cousin's 
disdainful  feet.  Two  sons  of  the  Emperor  were 
among  the  aspirants,  also  the  King  of  Denmark. 
The  light-hearted  King  of  Navarre  was  pondering 
whether  he  could  find  a  pretext  to  divorce  his  uncom- 
fortably superior  wife,  Jeanne  dAlbret,  and  marry  the 
beautiful  dowager.  In  Yorkshire  the  restless,  am- 
bitious Lady  Lennox  was  already  considering  how 
she  could  commend  her  fair,  long-limbed  son,  Lord 
Darnley,  to  his  cousin's  favour.  And  like  the  two 
jealous  step-sisters  of  this  princess  of  many   lovers, 


42  MARY  STUART 

Catherine  and  Elisabeth  were  intent  on  thwart- 
ing her  schemes.  A  King  of  Spain  with  sovereign 
rights  in  Scotland  and  a  claim  on  the  English  crown 
was  as  fearful  to  Catherine  as  to  Elisabeth.  The 
English  Queen  had  already  made  up  her  mind  and 
was  instructing  her  Scottish  allies  that  Mary  must 
only  be  suffered  to  marry  a  Scottish  or  English  noble- 
man who  would  add  nothing  to  her  importance. 

The  months  passed,  no  decision  was  come  to,  and 
Mary  felt  more  and  more  that  there  was  no  place  for 
her  in  France.  The  pressing  question  arose :  was 
there  room  for  her  in  Scotland,  her  native  kingdom  ? 
The  Venetian  ambassador  wrote  pityingly  of  her  as 
deprived  of  the  crown  of  France  and  with  little  hope  of 
recovering  that  of  Scotland.  In  the  last  year  indeed, 
Scotland  had  been  drifting  complacently  into  a  sort 
of  commonwealth.  Master  Knox  saw  in  it  already 
such  a  theocracy  as  he  read  into  the  Old  Testament, 
such  as  he  had  seen  with  his  own  eyes  at  Geneva. 
Without  a  misgiving  he  was  prepared  to  be  the 
inspired  guide  of  this  commonwealth,  to  dictate  its 
policy,  to  cleanse  its  land  of  idolatry  and  to  compel 
righteousness  of  life  and  purity  of  religion.  "  Devout 
imagination"  Maitland  of  Lethington  had  called 
such  visions,  in  his  clear-sighted  witty  fashion,  but 
it  was  a  "devout  imagination"  which  was  stamping 
itself  with  fatal  distinctness  on  the  consciences  and 
brains  of  a  compact  body  of  middle-class  Scotsmen 
— a  class  which  seems  to  have  sprung  into  being  at 
the  voice  of  Knox.  This  was  the  section  of  her 
people  whom  Mary  was  never  to  conciliate. 

By  gifts,  of  which  they  were  insatiably  greedy, 
and  by  delicate  womanly  flattery  of  their  Scottish 
pride,  she  was  easily  to  appease  the  suspicions  of  her 


CATHERINE    DE    MEDICI 


LE  DEUIL  BLANC  43 

nobility;  the  voices  of  the  "rascal  multitude"  were 
won  without  difficulty  to  cry  "God  bless  that  sweet 
face"  by  the  frank,  smiling  beauty  of  the  young 
Oueen.  But  the  bulk  of  serious  burohers  and  their 
wives  listened  week  after  week  with  sour  satisfaction 
to  Knox  denouncing  from  the  pulpit  her  "  dancing  and 
skipping,"  and  the  "stinking  pride"  of  her  "targetted 
tails."  For  Mary,  full  of  ambitions  —  Spanish 
marriage,  English  succession — or  possessed  by  her 
more  fatal  dream  of  love  and  happiness,  these  sober- 
suited  people  hardly  existed,  yet  they  and  their  crude, 
sincere  instinct  of  conduct  proved  to  be  the  unregarded 
stone  which,  falling  on  her,  was  to  grind  her  to  powder. 
It  was  the  strength  of  the  position  of  the  Lord 
James,  Mary's  half-brother,  that  he  represented  the 
faith  and  aspirations  of  this  class.  The  change  in 
religion  had  given  James  Stuart  the  position  ofv 
power  and  responsibility  he  coveted,  for  which  he  was 
fitted,  and  from  which  he  had  seemed  excluded  by  the 
accident  of  his  birth.  The  son  of  the  woman 
James  V.  had  nearly  married,  the  woman  he  had 
loved  most  dearly,  Lord  James  had  a  position  quite 
different  from  that  of  Lords  John  and  Robert, 
Mary's  other  half-brothers,  wild  young  bloods  who 
were  to  take  cordially  to  their  royal  half-sister  and 
to  fill  her  court  with  noise  and  brawling,  love- 
making  and  cheerfulness.  His  position  so  near  the 
throne,  yet  with  no  such  claims  as  gave  fictitious 
importance  to  Chatelherault  and  Lennox,  explains 
much  in  the  character  of  James.  He  had  the 
capacity  of  a  ruler  without  the  generous  instincts  of 
a  king ;  he  had  a  conscience  but  at  no  point  of  his 
life  did  he  show  any  warmth  of  heart ;  he  served  the 
cause  of  God  as  he  recognised  it  but  never  arrived  at 


44  MARY  STUART 

indifference  to  the  tangible  rewards  of  land  and  money. 
He  owed  it  to  the  good  Protestants  who  believed  in 
him  to  be  jealous  over  his  reputation  for  righteousness, 
and  if  he  profited  by  other  men's  crimes  he  was 
careful  to  remain  in  ignorance  of  them.  Serious  by 
nature,  he  felt  at  home  in  the  austere  walk  and  con- 
versation which  Protestantism  was  rapidly  grafting 
on  to  the  fierceness  of  Scottish  life,  a  walk  and  con- 
versation to  which  his  colleague,  Maitlandof  Lethington, 
hardly  made  a  pretence  of  conforming. 

Lethington  was  one  of  a  long  line  of  Scotsmen 
who  have  never  felt  quite  at  home  till  they  have 
found  themselves  on  the  English  side  of  the  Border. 
The  perfervidum  ingenium  of  their  countrymen  is  a 
weariness  to  the  taste  and  critical  instincts  of  such 
men,  and  a  constant  temptation  to  their  sense  of 
humour.  At  the  court  of  Elisabeth,  Lethington  was 
in  his  element.  "  A  Scottish  Cecil "  the  French 
ambassador  called  him  ;  Elisabeth  gracefully  described 
him  as  "  the  flower  of  the  wits  of  Scotland."  If 
Knox  accepted  the  English  alliance  because  it 
furthered  "the  religion,"  Lethington  accepted  Pro- 
testantism as  a  means  of  drawing  the  two  countries 
nearer  together.  That  Scotland  should  take  her  place 
among  the  great  civilised  states  was  his  enlightened 
political  aim,  and  this  she  could  best  do  in  close  alliance 
with  England.  With  this  view  he  had  tried  to  further 
the  marriage  of  Elisabeth  with  Arran,  just  as  later, 
with  the  same  view,  he  strove  to  have  Mary  recognised 
as  Elisabeth's  heir. 

Arran,  the  suitor  of  two  reigning  sovereigns,  was 
singularly  unfit  for  the  important  place  into  which  he 
was  being  pushed.  His  religious  fanaticism  was  part 
of  a  generally  unsettled  mental  condition  ;  his  father's 


MAITLAND   OF    LKTHINGTON 


LE  DEUIL  BLANC  45 

penuriousness  stood  in  the  way  of  the  young  man's 
dignity  and  popularity. 

These  three  men,  with  Knox  behind  them,  were 
guiding  affairs  in  Scotland  when  Mary  resolved  to 
return  to  her  own  kingdom. 

Mary  of  Guise  is  supposed  to  have  prepared  a 
written  document  for  her  daughter's  use,  summing  up 
the  characteristics  of  all  the  leading  noblemen  of 
Scotland.  If  written  in  the  last  year  of  her  life,  it 
can  hardly  have  been  creditable  to  most  of  them,  but 
one  man  would  certainly  have  stood  well  in  those 
pages,  James  Hepburn,  Earl  of  Bothwell.  This 
"glorious  and  hazardous  young  man"  was  the  only 
one  of  the  nobles  of  whom  Mary  of  Guise  could  have 
said  that  he  had  been  both  faithful  and  efficient  in  her 
cause.  He  had  waylaid  and  carried  off  a  consignment 
of  money  secretly  sent  from  England  to  the  Lords  of 
the  Congregation ;  when  the  days  were  darkening 
round  the  dying  Queen  he  had  arrived  at  the  French 
court  to  urge  the  need  of  further  succours.  At  a  time 
when  the  Protestant  faith,  in  its  first  earnestness,  was 
calling  on  all  men  to  purify  their  lives,  it  is  a  whimsical 
fact  that  this  reckless,  sensual  swash-buckler — as 
regardless  of  the  honour  of  women  as  of  the  lives  of 
men — should  never,  either  for  fear  or  favour,  have 
deviated  from  the  Protestantism  he  professed. 

In  April  two  envoys  from  Scotland  reached  Mary 
where  she  was  staying  at  Vitry  in  Champagne  within 
two  days  of  each  other.  One,  John  Leslie,  a  young 
ecclesiastic,  came  on  behalf  of  the  Catholics  in  Scotland 
and  with  definite  proposals  from  the  Catholic  Earl 
of  Huntly  that  she  would  land  at  Aberdeen  and  trust 
herself  and  her  cause  to  him  and  the  inchoate  northern 
forces  he  had  at  his  command.     For  all  his  bluster  and 


46  MARY  STUART 

boasting  Mary  knew  Huntly  to  be  fickle  and  ineffectual. 
A  day  later  than  Leslie,  arrived  Lord  James,  the 
accredited  envoy  of  the  Parliament.  Leslie  had 
warned  Mary  against  her  brother,  had  even  urged 
his  being  detained  in  France,  but  Mary  had  received 
other  and  more  prudent  counsels.  The  French- 
men recently  come  from  Scotland,  her  mother's  old 
friend  d'Oysel  and  the  soldierly  Martigues  who  had 
starved  gallantly  behind  the  walls  of  Leith,  were 
convinced  that  she  should  frankly  ally  herself  with 
the  ruling  faction  and  use  the  services  of  Lord  James. 

For  four  years  this  strangely  situated  brother  and 
sister  were  to  act  in  concert ;  she  was  to  follow  his 
suggestions  and  heap  honours  and  wealth  upon  him. 
He  was  to  affect  to  be  her  protector  and  to  espouse 
her  interests,  yet  one  doubts  if  there  was  ever  a  move- 
ment of  cordiality  or  confidence  between  them.  At  this 
first  meeting  Mary  frankly  avowed  her  policy  :  she 
would  refuse  to  ratify  the  treaty,  she  would  discontinue 
the  alliance  with  England,  she  would  marry  some 
foreign  prince.  Lord  James  noted  her  conversation 
and  a  few  days  later  reported  it  all  to  Throckmorton. 
No  wonder  the  English  ambassador  urged  his  mistress 
to  reward  substantially  so  good  a  friend. 

Mary's  frankness  argued  no  simple-minded  con- 
fidence in  her  half-brother,  but  rather  a  bold  deter- 
mination that  from  the  beginning  her  subjects  should 
know  what  to  expect.  She  would  not  repeat  her 
mother's  mistake  and  rule  Scotsmen  with  the  help  of 
French  advisers  and  soldiers.  Unlike  that  mother 
she  was  no  alien  but  their  native  princess,  the  daughter 
of  their  kings.  Once  and  again,  at  the  end  of  her 
troubled  life,  she  declared  that  her  last  words  should 
be  those  of  a  daughter  of  the  Church  and  a  Queen  of 


LE  DEUIL  BLANC  47 

Scotland.  She  might  have  blazoned  these  words  as 
her  device  from  the  beginning.  She  was  going 
among  a  people  who  had  defied  her  authority  and 
discarded  her  religion,  without  any  alien  support, 
trusting  entirely  to  her  natural  authority  and  innate 
courage. 

Three  of  her  uncles  and  many  French  gentlemen 
were  to  escort  her  to  Scotland,  but  purely  as  a  guard 
of  honour  and  pledged  to  an  early  return.  The 
journey  alone  offered  dangers  enough  to  daunt  a  less 
resolute  woman.  To  secure  her  passage  through  the 
narrow  seas  Mary  sent  her  ambassador  to  ask  for  a 
safe  conduct  from  Elisabeth  with  promise  of  accom- 
modation if  she  were  driven  by  stress  of  weather  to 
land  on  the  English  coast.  It  was  little  enough  to 
demand  ;  there  was  peace  between  the  two  countries  ; 
but  when  the  request  was  made  by  Mary's  ambassador 
Elisabeth  refused  it  with  a  burst  of  passion  in  the 
presence  of  the  whole  court.  Afterwards,  it  is  true, 
she  sent  a  message  that  if  Mary  would  ratify  the 
treaty  she  might  have  free  passage  through  England 
and  the  queens  might  meet  in  friendly  conference. 
The  difficulties  Elisabeth  afterwards  threw  in  the  way 
of  all  proposed  meetings  give  one  the  measure  of  her 
sincerity  in  this  invitation.  She  had  the  habit  of 
making  generous  proposals  when  she  had  taken 
security  against  their  being  accepted. 

Mary  received  the  first  affront  with  admirable 
dignity.  There  must  have  been  extraordinary  lucidity 
and  grace  in  her  speech.  Throckmorton,  Randolph 
and  Knox  have  all  reported  long  dialogues,  and  with 
how  much  faithfulness  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  in 
almost  every  case  they  leave  the  victory  with  her. 
Throckmorton's  interest  and  admiration   are  evident 


48  MARY  STUART 

from  the  small  space  occupied  by  his  counter-argu- 
ments. Mary  had  a  genius  for  putting  her  opponents 
in  the  wrong,  and  on  no  one  did  she  exercise  it  with 
finer  skill  than  Elisabeth.  When  she  received 
Throckmorton  she  dismissed  her  attendants  "  not 
knowing,"  she  explained  with  some  edge,  "  my  own 
infirmity,  nor  how  far  I  may  with  my  passions  be 
transported,  and  not  liking  to  have  so  many  witnesses 
of  my  passions  as  the  Queen  your  mistress  was  content 
to  have  when  she  talked  with  M.  d'Oysel."  As  to 
the  ratification,  her  reasoning  was  clear  and  pointed. 
The  original  treaty  had  been  drawn  up  in  the  name 
of  her  late  husband  and  herself;  circumstances  had 
changed ;  as  independent  Queen  of  Scotland  she 
would  sign  no  treaty  without  the  advice  of  her 
Scottish  Council ;  her  uncles  being  Frenchmen  might 
have  no  part  in  her  councils.  On  that  same  evening, 
when  the  English  ambassador  came  to  take  his  leave, 
her  mood  had  changed.  She  was  as  dignified  as 
before,  but  there  was  a  girlish  pathos  in  her  demeanour. 
It  may  have  been  reaction  from  the  effort  of  the 
morning,  it  may  have  been  a  dramatic  pose,  it  may 
have  been  that  the  danger  and  loneliness  of  her  lot 
had  swept  over  her  soul.  She  seemed  to  realise  the 
unkindness  of  her  cousin's  action.  She  trusted  that 
she  would  not  need  to  land  in  England,  but  if  she  did 
fall  into  her  cousin's  hands,  she  said,  "  she  may  then 
do  her  pleasure  and  make  sacrifice  of  me.  Peradven- 
ture  that  casualty  might  be  better  for  me  than  to  live ; 
in  this  matter  God's  will  be  fulfilled."  But  in  a 
lighter  tone  she  added  that  she  trusted  all  might  yet 
be  well.  Then,  in  the  curiously  frank  manner  of  the 
time,  she  embraced  Throckmorton  and  said  good-bye. 
The  contrast  with  Elisabeth  was  complete  when,  next 


LE  DEUIL  BLANC  49 

day,  Mary  was  careful  to  send  him  the  present  for- 
gotten in  the  hurry  of  the  farewell. 

On  August  15th  she  set  sail  from  Calais. 

Brantome,  who  tells  us  the  story  of  her  passage, 
was  in  her  train,  admiring,  obsequious,  letting  no 
picturesque  detail  escape  his  notice ;  Bothwell  may 
have  been  there,  with  his  soldierly  swagger  and  rough, 
arresting,  forcible  face,  undistinguished  as  yet  from 
other  mettlesome  young  men  ;  Damville  was  there, 
the  Connetable's  son,  a  declared  lover  of  the  Queen, 
and  in  his  train,  a  rash,  inflammable,  young  poet 
Chastelard. 

There  is  a  charm  of  naturalness  and  individuality 
about  every  reported  action  of  Mary.  As  long  as 
the  coast  of  France  was  visible  she  leaned  on  the 
bulwarks,  the  big  tears  falling  unrestrained.  Her 
ladies  succumbed  to  the  discomforts  of  the  sea,  but 
she,  wholly  given  up  to  her  emotion,  insisted  on 
having  a  couch  dressed  for  her  on  deck.  Thence, 
sitting  up  at  dawn  next  morning  she  looked  her  last 
at  the  low  grey  coast-line  of  receding  France. 

The  ship  was  a  great  galley  rowed  by  wretched 
prisoners  chained  to  the  oar,  men  whose  sufferings 
no  one  regarded ;  but  Mary,  claiming  her  royal  pre- 
rogative of  spreading  content  and  happiness  wherever 
she  came,  insisted  that  no  blow  should  be  struck  in 
the  ship  as  long  as  she  was  on  board.  Yet  this  same 
girl  had  seen  unmoved  the  torments  of  the  victims 
of  Amboise !  The  one  incident  gives  us  the  measure 
of  her  natural  goodness  of  heart,  the  other  the  intensity 
of  the  religious  and  political  rancours  of  the  time. 


CHAPTER  V 

mary's  return  to  Scotland 

August  1561 — January  1562 

A  COLD,  dark  morning  in  a  Scotch  August,  an 
^*-  easterly  haar  creeping  over  the  sea,  the  squalid 
little  port  of  Leith  hardly  alive  and  stirring  at  seven 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and,  three  miles  off,  the  Capital 
taken  at  unawares,  all  unprepared  to  welcome  the 
returning  Queen ;  such  was  Mary's  return  to  her 
native  kingdom.  Similar  mischances  were  not 
unknown  to  Royalty  in  the  sixteenth  century.  Two 
years  before,  Madame  Elisabeth,  on  her  way  to  the 
proudest  throne  in  Europe,  had  been  storm-stayed 
in  the  Pyrenees,  and  between  the  delays  of  Spanish 
etiquette  and  the  heaping  snow-drifts  had  run  the 
risk  of  falling  short  of  supplies. 

For  several  hours  on  that  cheerless  August  day, 
Mary  and  her  party  had  to  wait  in  the  house  of 
Captain  Lambie,  a  citizen  of  Leith.  In  the  course 
of  the  morning  noblemen,  hastily  advertised  of  her 
presence,  hurried  singly  or  in  companies  from 
Edinburgh  to  welcome  the  Queen.  Lord  James  was 
one,  and  Argyle  (who  had  married  one  of  Mary's  half- 
sisters),  Huntly  also,  and  Atholl  and  others  of  the 
Catholics.  Brantome  declares  that  the  Queen  shed 
tears  over  the  sorry  hackneys  hurriedly  collected 
to  carry  the  party  to  Holyrood,  but  he  is  probably 
reflecting  his  own  feelings  rather  than  the  Queen's. 
Mortification    she    may   have    felt,    but   courage   and 

5° 


MARY'S  RETURN  TO  SCOTLAND      51 

courtesy,  her  two  prevailing  instincts,  would  have  for- 
bidden such  an  expression  of  feeling. 

The  ample  plenishing  that  Mary  was  bringing  with 
her  did  not  arrive  till  a  month  later ;  meanwhile  the 
modest  luxury  Holyrood  could  afford  consisted  of 
furniture  that  had  belonged  to  Mary  of  Guise.  In 
prosperous  times  luxury  may  be  reckoned  to  double 
with  each  generation,  but  Mary's  possessions  were 
more  than  three  times  as  numerous  as  her  mother's. 
Instead  of  nine  beds  she  had  forty-five,  thirty-six 
Turkey  carpets  instead  of  two,  and  arras  cloths 
of  state  and  other  furniture  in  like  proportions.  She 
had  the  finest  jewels  of  any  lady  in  Europe.  All 
this  splendour  was  by  no  means  without  effect 
on  her  Scottish  nobles.  The  richest  of  them  was 
mortified  when  he  contrasted  his  poor  and  defective 
equipment  with  that  of  the  French  and  English 
nobility,  his  peers.  To  a  man  they  were  rapacious 
in  grasping  any  means  of  enriching  themselves.  The 
sight  of  Mary's  possessions  dazzled  their  rude 
imaginations  and  lightened  for  her  the  task  of 
winning  their  allegiance.  But  experience  of  her 
large  bounty  increased  their  cupidity  without  exciting 
their  gratitude. 

Till  her  possessions  arrived  she  had  only  smiles 
and  thanks  and  gracious  words  to  bestow,  and  of  those 
she  was  no  niggard.  Brantome's  French  ears  might 
be  tortured  by  the  serenade  of  some  honest  men  of 
the  town — psalm-singing  to  the  accompaniment  of  \ 
rebecks — but  Mary  not  only  declared  that  the  music 
liked  her  well,  but  in  her  graciousness  begged  that 
it  might  be  repeated  on  further  evenings.  The 
absence  of  all  comfort  and  dignity  in  her  surround- 
ings   could    no    more    detract    from    Mary's    queen- 


\ 


52  MARY  STUART 

Hness  than  could  any  elaboration  of  ceremonial 
stiffen  her  vivacity  and  womanly  sweetness.  She 
received  the  envoy  sent  by  the  Lennoxes  to  con- 
gratulate her  on  her  return,  sitting  in  the  midst  of 
her  luggage,  the  most  royal  creature  that  ever  graced 
throne  or  packing-case.  She  might,  in  private,  join 
in  the  laughter  or  the  grumbling  of  her  French 
attendants,  but  she  was  her  father's  daughter  as 
well  as  niece  to  the  Guises.  She  had  come  to  gain 
the  heart  of  her  Scottish  subjects,  and  in  the  excite- 
ment of  those  early  days  it  is  clear  that  her-  own 
heart  went  out  to  meet  theirs.  Of  the  Protestant 
nobles  her  conquest  was  rapid  and  complete.  They 
who  had  but  yesterday  avowed  themselves 
servants  to  Elisabeth  now  wrote  to  the  English 
council  resenting  Elisabeth's  denial  of  a  free  pass- 
port and  hinting  plainly  at  the  recognition  of  Mary  as 
next  heir  to  the  throne.  It  flattered  the  national 
vanity  to  have  a  queen  who  might  match  with  any 
crown  in  Europe  and  bring  two  kingdoms  as  her 
dowry. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  religious  question  Mary 
and  her  people  in  these  early  days  would  have  been 
heartily  at  one.  Knox,  in  writing  of  Mary,  constantly 
uses  the  word  "dissimulate"  and  most  unfairly,  for 
there  was  entire  clearness  and  decision  in  all  her 
actions  regarding  religion.  She  had  refused  to  ally 
herself  with  the  Scottish  Catholics,  she  had  come 
unguarded  by  a  single  French  soldier,  for  a  whole 
week  she  had  successfully  conciliated  her  influential 
Protestant  subjects,  but  on  that  first  Sunday  she  un- 
hesitatingly ordered  the  chapel  of  the  palace  to  be 
prepared  for  the  celebration  of  the  mass. 

There  was    no  privacy  at    court    in    those    days 


JAMKS  STUART.   EARL  OF   MURRAY 


MARYS  RETURN  TO  SCOTLAND   53 

many  of  the  noblemen  had  their  lodging  in  the  small 
crowded  palace  itself,  others  quite  near  in  the  aristo- 
cratic suburb  of  the  Canongate.  "  The  hearts  of  the 
godly  were  pierced,"  writes  Knox,  as  if  it  were  a 
quite  unlooked  for  occurrence.  The  clash  of  arms 
was  heard  in  the  court  and,  distinct  above  the  cry  of 
angry  men,  the  voice  of  the  Master  of  Lindsay,  in 
whom  as  we  shall  see,  ferocity  had  stern  alliance  with 
fanaticism,  proclaiming  death  to  the  idolater  priest. 
The  French  household  were  terror-stricken  but  Mary 
never  faltered. 

"  To  have  her  mass  in  private,  who  should  stay 
her?"  so  Lord  James  had  asked  the  Council,  with 
what  should  have  been  convincing  commonsense. 
The  cogency  of  his  own  remark  was  being  uncomfort- 
ably forced  home  upon  him.  With  the  instincts  of 
gentlemen  and  the  kindliness  of  kinsmen  Mary's  three 
half-brothers  stood  by  her.  Lords  Robert  and  John 
protected  the  priest  back  to  his  lodging,  Lord  James 
guarded  the  door  during  the  service.  It  was  a 
serious  matter  for  this  man  whom  "  all  the  godly  did 
most  reverence " ;  it  compromised  his  character  with 
these  severe,  unreasoning  judges.  But  he  was  not 
alone  in  his  defection.  Beyond  the  court  precincts, 
in  the  crowded  streets  of  Edinburgh,  or  in  St  Giles 
and  especially  in  Knox's  study  the  Lords  of  the 
Congregation  might  rage  against  the  new  scandal, 
but  in  the  presence  of  the  beautiful,  cordial  young 
Queen  all  protest  faltered  and  men  read  their  own 
weakness  in  the  abashed,  pleased  countenances  of 
their  neighbour.  "  I  think  there  be  some  enchant- 
ment whereby  men  are  bewitched,"  said  sober  Campbell 
of  Kinyeancleuch  to  a  late-comer,  Lord  Ochiltree. 

Edinburgh  was  a  small  town  in  those  days.      Pro- 


i 


54  MARY  STUART 

bably  not  more  than  thirty  thousand  inhabitants  were 
packed  between  the  narrow  walls.  But  each  inhabitant 
of  the  steep  crowded  streets  and  wynds  had  hands 
quick  to  strike,  a  tongue  ready  to  wag  and  a  fiery  heart 
to  espouse  any  cause  good  or  bad.  On  Sundays,  Knox 
was  accustomed  to  sway  to  his  liking  the  better  part 
of  this  energetic  and  dangerous  community.  On  the 
Sunday  that  followed  the  Queen's  mass,  in  a  passionate 
address,  he  declared  that  "  this  one  mass  was  more 
fearful  to  him  than  if  ten  thousand  enemies  had  landed 
in  the  country."  Behind  Mary  he  saw  the  Guises, 
a  Cardinal  who  might  one  day  be  Pope  and  a  soldier 
who  might  any  day  by  a  caprice  of  court  favour  have 
irresponsible  control  of  French  armies.  Behind  the 
mass  at  Holyrood  he  saw  the  massacres  of  Amboise 
and  the  inextinguishable  hatred  of  Huguenot  and 
Catholic.  Knox  was  right.  It  was  as  plainly  in- 
cumbent on  the  Catholic  Mary  to  destroy  him  and 
his  sermon  if  she  could,  as  it  was  the  duty  he  felt  to 
be  laid  upon  himself  to  suppress  her  mass  and,  if  need 
be,  herself  along  with  it.  Such  was  the  position  of 
religious  parties  in  the  sixteenth  century. 

He  might  have  allowed  Mary  the  benefit  of  the 
doubt.  There  is  little  evidence  that  the  Queen  at  this 
time  felt  strongly  a  mission  to  restore  her  country  to 
the  true  fold.  She  was  determined  to  be  true  herself 
to  her  religion,  partly  because  loyalty  was  of  the 
essence  of  her  nature,  partly  because  she  knew  that  to 
turn  Protestant  would  disqualify  her  for  the  leading- 
part  she  meant  to  play  in  European  diplomacy.  At 
this  moment  she  was  set  on  the  English  succession, 
and  for  this  end  she  needed  the  support  of  her  Pro- 
testant subjects.  It  is  possible,  just  possible,  that  a 
modus  vivendi,  such  as   Elisabeth   had   found,  might 


MARY'S  RETURN  TO  SCOTLAND      55 

have  been  found  for  Mary  also,  but  Knox  was  re- 
solved that  such  a  thing  should  not  even  be  hoped 
for. 

It  is  the  inhuman  element  in  Calvinism  which 
teaches  that  the  effort  to  save  a  large  proportion  of 
souls  is  useless  if  not  impious.  Knox,  "  as  if  he  were 
of  God's  privy  council  " — the  expression  is  that  of  the 
friendly  Randolph — was  determined  that  Mary  "could 
never  come  to  God  nor  ever  have  one  single  good 
thought  of  Him."  He  had  hated  her  with  theological 
hatred  before  she  touched  the  Port  of  Leith,  but  there 
was  a  personal  edge  to  his  rancour  after  the  first  fort- 
night when  he  had  seen  his  party  broken  up  and  his 
influence  weakened  by  the  magic  of  her  presence.  To 
this  "  idealism  of  hate  "  we  owe  the  minute  and  vivid 
touches  of  all  his  references  to  Mary. 

We  know  how  largely  Mary  bulked  in  Knox's 
mind.  It  would  be  interesting  to  know  the  place  he 
occupied  in  hers.  It  was  certainly  far  smaller  than  he 
would  have  believed  possible.  At  any  time  it  argues 
singular  originality  of  heart  and  brain  when  a  woman 
of  privileged  position  understands  and  approves 
opinions  and  sentiments  opposite  to  those  in  which 
she  has  been  brought  up.  There  was  nothing  in 
Mary's  experience  or  character  that  could  dimly  suggest 
to  her  that  she  was  face  to  face  with  a  new  force,  a 
force  she  was  bound,  at  the  peril  of  life  and  crown,  to 
estimate  duly.  I  f  she  failed — failed  tragically — to  under- 
stand the  power  and  quality  of  her  enemy,  she  had  at 
least  the  high  spirit  which  was  determined  to  lose  no 
time  in  meeting-  him  face  to  face.  She  relied  on  the  con- 
troversial  commonplaces  she  had  learnt  from  her  uncle  ; 
on  the  mere  authority  of  the  crown — never  in  her  sur- 
roundings called  in  question  ;  on  her  own  quick  wits ; 


56  MARY  STUART 

and  if  she  calculated  also  on  the  effect  of  personal 
fascination  the  experience  of  the  last  fortnight 
entirely  justified  her. 

As  Knox  reports  the  dialogue,  the  bulk  of  the 
speaking  was  on  his  side.  Mary  showed  indeed  most 
unfeminine  patience,  never  interrupting,  and  once 
enduring  a  pause  which  lasted  fifteen  minutes.  Knox 
lectured  her  on  his  own  credentials,  on  the  limits  of 
the  obedience  of  subjects,  on  the  idolatry  of  the  mass. 
She  kept  her  head  and  once  and  again  revealed  the 
weak  points  of  his  argument.  When  he  bade  her 
look  upon  it  as  the  greatest  glory  that  flesh  can  be 
heir  to  on  earth  to  be  in  subjection  to  the  Church  of 
God,  she  asked  pertinently  which  church  ?  When  he 
referred  her  to  the  authority  of  the  Scripture,  she 
asked  "who  shall  be  the  judge  and  interpreter?" 
When  he  argued  that  it  was  the  duty  of  subjects  to 
disobey  their  princes  when  their  consciences  were 
otherwise,  she  brought  the  case  home  by  saying, 
"  Well,  then,  I  perceive  that  my  subjects  shall  obey 
you  and  not  me.  ...  So  must  I  be  subject  to  them  and 
not  they  to  me."  It  would  have  been  difficult  to  sum 
up  Master  Knox's  scheme  of  government  more  fairly. 

It  was  indeed  a  strange  impossible  game  of 
diplomacy,  patience  and  self-repression  that  this  high- 
spirited  girl  was  called  on  to  play  with  occasional 
self-interested  partners,  but  no  genuine  allies,  against 
a  compact  body  of  aggressive  public  opinion.  In  this 
game  she  was  eventually  to  lose  everything,  crown, 
liberty  and  reputation.  The  wonder  is  that  she  kept 
it  up  so  long  and  scored  so  many  points  against  her 
opponents. 

Even  in  the  pageants  that  welcomed  her  return, 
insults  were  flung  at  her  religion  ;  there  was  an  implied 


MARY'S  RETURN  TO  SCOTLAND      57 

menace  in  the  symbolical  burning  of  Korah  and  Dathan 
which  ended  the  rejoicings  in  the  High  Street  of 
Edinburgh.  She  was  too  prudent  to  make  remon- 
strance, but  the  insults  stung.  Once  during  a  similar 
pageant  in  the  town  of  Dundee  she  turned  suddenly 
faint  and  had  to  be  lifted  from  her  horse. 

This  prudence,  however,  argued  no  lack  of  spirit. 
A  month  after  her  arrival  the  provost  and  bailies  of 
Edinburgh  issued  a  proclamation  coupling  priests, 
friars  and  nuns  with  drunkards,  whore-mongers  and 
other  scandalous  livers  and  banishing  them  from  the 
town.  Instantly  the  royal  authority  swooped  down 
upon  the  insolent  magistrates,  swept  them  into  ward  in 
the  Tolbooth  and  issued  a  mandate  for  a  new  election. 

Aggressive  policy  in  matters  of  religion  would 
have  been  futile  and  dangerous  :  to  gain  a  sour,  un- 
certain toleration  for  her  own  mass  was  the  utmost 
she  could  achieve.  Meanwhile  the  Pope,  singularly 
ill-informed  as  to  the  true  state  of  matters  in  the  utter- 
most isles  of  the  sea,  was  expecting  for  the  Church 
some  first-fruits  of  Mary's  return.  In  the  following 
July  [1562]  a  papal  ambassador  by  name  Goudanus  was 
sent  secretly  to  Scotland  to  report  on  the  state  of 
religion  and  to  invite  the  Queen  and  bishops  to  send 
a  representative  to  the  Council  of  Trent.  The 
Scottish  bishops  of  that  day  were  not  the  stuff  martyrs 
are  made  of.  With  one  consent  they  refused  even  to 
receive  Goudanus,  save  the  Bishop  of  Dunblane,  who 
made  him  assume  the  disguise  of  a  banker's  agent. 
The  Queen  risked  even  more  than  they  in  receiving 
an  emissary  of  the  Pope,  but  she  was  of  quite  other 
mettle. 

For  a  month  Goudanus  had  to  skulk  about 
Edinburgh  in  disguise,  till  one  Sunday  morning  when 


58  MARY  STUART 

he  was  secretly  conducted  through  outlying  fields  to 
Holyrood  and  smuggled  up  to  the  Queen's  chamber. 
It  was  the  time  of  sermon  at  St  Giles  and  Lord  James 
and  other  people  of  importance  would  be  safely 
occupied  for  several  quiet  hours.  The  Queen  was  all 
Goudanus  could  have  wished  in  cordiality  and  in 
assurances  of  faithful  attachment  to  the  Church,  but  she 
was  too  prudent  to  make  any  promises  for  the  future. 
The  papal  court  never  understood  Mary's  diffi- 
culties, and  suspected  her  of  lukewarmness  while 
Knox  was  thundering  at  her  anti- Protestant  zeal. 
Irksome  and  anxious  as  was  this  constant  friction 
about  religion,  ominous  as  we  who  have  seen  the  end 
know  it  to  be,  it  did  not  bulk  disturbingly  in  Mary's 
eyes.  She  accepted  all  arrangements  in  Scotland, 
religious  and  political,  as  provisional.  She  looked 
forward  to  a  diplomatic  triumph  in  the  Spanish 
marriage,  to  an  alliance  that  would  remove  all 
restraints  and  difficulties,  and  put  her  opponents 
below  her  feet.  Meantime  she  could  tolerate  and 
wait,  absorbed  in  her  plans  and  enjoying — as  there  is 
evidence  to  show  she  did  enjoy — her  position  as  an 
independent  sovereign. 

There  is  an  incident,  merely  an  incident,  out  of 
the  main  current  of  her  story,  which  gives  a  natural 
and  winning  picture  of  her  girlish  eagerness  to  use  her 
power  for  the  service  of  her  friends.  Returning  from 
the  English  court  in  January  [1562]  Lethington  had 
brought  sinister  rumours  of  suspicion  and  disgrace 
fallen  on  the  Guises.  De  Foix,  an  ambassador  sent  by 
Catherine,  gave  further  details.  An  ugly  story  was 
current  at  the  French  court  of  an  attempt  to  carry  off 
^  Monsieur,  the  little  Duke  of  Orleans,  the  next  heir  to 
the  throne.     The  man  accused  of  this  wild  enterprise 


MARYS  RETURN  TO  SCOTLAND   59 

was  the  Duke  of  Nemours  acting  in  the  interests  and 
at  the  instigation  of  the  Guises. 

Mary  promptly  and  with  angry  tears  denied  the 
truth  of  such  a  tale.  She  would  go  bail  for  the  honour 
of  all  her  house.  But  she  was  filled  with  apprehension, 
and  in  this  mood  she  sat  down  to  write  her  heart  out 
to  her  uncle.  If  any  evil  befell  her  friends  she  "  would 
never  have  joy  again  having  lost  all,  all  that  I  held 
dear  except  only  them."  But  the  writer  is  not  merely 
an  affectionate  woman  pouring  out  sympathy,  but  a 
young  queen  offering  all  the  resources  of  her  power 
and  influence. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  she  and  Elisabeth  had 
begun  their  interchange  of  vows  of  devotion  and 
mutual  service.  Mary  acts  on  the  assumption  that 
all  is  sincerity  between  them.  She  entreats  from 
Elisabeth  for  her  uncles  the  favour  of  the  services  of  the 
English  ambassador  at  the  French  court.  She  is  half 
apologetic,  half  triumphant  as  she  relates  to  her  uncle 
this  stroke  of  diplomacy.  But  there  is  an  unmistak- 
able note  of  girlish  exultation  when  she  imagines  the 
feelings  of  her  uncle's  enemies  "  if  they  see  us,  the 
Queen  of  England  and  me,  getting  on  so  well  that  she 
desires  her  ambassador  to  serve  you  as  you  appoint 
lm. 

All  this  generous  scheming  was  unnecessary ;  at 
the  very  time  of  writing,  the  storm  had  blown  past  and 
the  Guises  were  reinstated  in  their  own  place. 


CHAPTER  VI 

HOLYROOD 
January  1562 — November  1562 

THE  six  years  of  Mary's  reign  in  Scotland  are 
perhaps  the  swiftest  and  completest  tragedy  in 
history,  but  they  began  like  a  May  game  or  the  last  act 
of  a  comedy,  so  full  of  play  and  pageant  and  love 
affairs  and  marriages  were  the  first  few  months.  All 
the  court  was  young,  the  queen  herself  but  nineteen. 
All  her  life  she  had  been  a  Oueen  but  never  a  ruler  till 
now.  Her  first  marriage  had  been  a  foregone  con- 
clusion :  now  she  was  waiting  for  the  wooers  who 
should  come  from  over  seas.  Most  of  her  ladies  were 
young  and  unmarried.  The  four  Maries  seem  to  have 
had  the  character  and  warmth  of  heart  of  Scotswomen 
and  the  grace  and  vivacity  of  France. 

There  was  only  one  woman  at  the  English  court  ; 
the  sighs  and  amorous  glances  of  young  gallants  were 
as  steadily  directed  to  the  virgin  Queen  as  were  the 
portfolios  of  ministers  or  the  despatches  of  ambassadors, 
but  at  the  Scottish  court  Mary  Beaton  might  enter- 
tain a  supper-table  by  her  wit  or  Mary  Fleming  queen 
it  at  a  Twelfth  Night  party  in  her  mistress's  finest 
jewels  and  cloth  of  gold. 

We  can  only  skirt  past  the  coarseness,  corruption 
and  cold  cruelty  of  Catherine  de  Medici's  court,  but  the 
minute  and  spiteful  gossip  of  hostile  critics  such  as 
Knox  and — to  a  lesser  degree — Randolph  fail  to  prove 
any  scandal  in  the  gay  doings   at    Holyrood.       The 

Co 


I 


o 


HOLYROOD  61 

affection  Mary  excited  in  her  intimate  women  friends 
survived  her  disastrous  love  affairs,  her  shame  and 
sorrow,  her  long  imprisonment.  At  the  court  of 
Elisabeth,  love  affairs  had  to  be  carried  on  sur- 
reptitiously and  marriages  commonly  ended  in  the 
Tower,  but  love  and  marriage  were  the  element  in 
which  Mary  lived.  It  was  she  who  delighted  to 
clothe  the  bride  in  cloth  of  silver  with  white  taffety 
lining  or  other  sumptuous  fabric  from  her  French 
stores  ;  she  who  signed  the  contract,  she  who  led  the 
dance  or  figured  in  the  masque. 

In  the  January  after  her  arrival  her  three  half- 
brothers  held  their  weddings  with  a  state  and  luxury 
which,  in  the  case  of  Lord  James,  was  a  scandal  to 
the  godly.  But  he  could  afford  to  stand  a  little  aloof 
from  Knox  and  his  sermons ;  his  star  was  in  the 
ascendant  ;  he  had  been  made  Earl  of  Mar,  had 
married  after  "  long  love "  the  daughter  of  Earl 
Marischal.  In  all  points  his  sister  seemed  to  bend  to 
his  advice. 

Gay  and  approachable  as  Mary  might  be  in  the 
intimate  life  of  her  court,  claiming  little  privilege 
beyond  what  every  other  lady  fondly  accorded  to  her 
natural  pre-eminence,  she  could  sharply  shut  off  the 
frivolities  of  her  social  life  from  the  cares  of  state  and 
diplomacy.  She  astonished  Randolph  by  her  clear 
recollection  of  all  the  craft  and  policy  of  the  preceding 
years  both  in  France  and  Scotland.  Of  all  men 
Lethington  had  most  dreaded  her  return  ;  he  had  not 
been  ashamed  to  hint  to  the  English  government  the 
desirability  of  her  capture  ;  he  had  foreseen  "  great 
tragedies  "  if  her  return  were  allowed,  but  almost  at 
once  Lethinoton  went  over  to  her  allegiance  and 
became  the  most  assiduous,  as  he  certainly    was  the 


62  MARY  STUART 

ablest  of  her  servants.  She  does  not  appear  to  have 
exercised  her  special,  personal  spell  on  his  cool, 
observant  nature,  nor  did  she  bribe  him  with  gifts  and 
honours  as  she  did  Lord  James,  but  each  soon  re- 
cognised in  the  other  a  diplomatist  with  whom  it  would 
be  easy  and  profitable  to  work  Lethington's  favourite 
scheme  of  a  closer  union  between  Scotland  and 
England,  and  Mary's  ambition  to  be  recognised  as 
Elisabeth's  successor  were  plans  that  could  be  worked 
together.  Together  they  concocted  adroit  and  cogent 
letters  to  Elisabeth  on  the  eternal  subjects  of  the 
ratification  of  the  treaty  and  the  settlement  of  the 
succession.  While  on  these  two  points  neither  queen 
retreated  for  a  moment  from  the  positions  each  had 
taken  up  yet,  during  the  first  year,  a  remarkable 
change  passed  over  their  relations  to  one  another. 

Ignoring  any  intention  she  may  have  had  of  captur- 
ing her  cousin  on  the  seas,  Elisabeth  gravely  sent  an 
envoy  to  congratulate  her  on  her  safe  return.  Then,  as 
if  by  mutual  consent,  both  ladies  began  a  game  of 
romantic  devotion  to  each  other.  It  is  difficult  to  guess 
how  far  each  imagined  that  she  deceived  the  other ;  it 
is  possible  that  at  moments  the  deception  extended  even 
to  themselves.  Elisabeth  had  a  curious  pleasure  in 
imagining  herself  in  quite  impossible  situations  as  when 
she  told  the  Spanish  ambassador  that  what  she  would 
really  like  would  be  to  be  a  nun.  It  is  more  difficult  to 
believe  that  Mary  ever  persuaded  herself  that  Elisabeth 
would  enjoy  playing  the  part  of  elder  sister  or  mother 
to  her  triumphant  youth  ;  still  the  pretty  game  went 
on,  graceful  and  symmetrical  as  a  contre-danse,  and 
about  as  serious.  Mary  almost  persuaded  the  English 
ambassador,  the  observant  and  suspicious  Randolph, 
of  her  sincerity.     She  would  declare  in  jest  that  she 


HOLYROOD  63 

would  have  no  husband  but  the  Queen  of  England. 
She  would  carry  Elisabeth's  letters  in  her  bosom  and 
on  occasions  would  wear  no  jewels  except  the  diamond 
of  her  giving,  while  in  stilted  phrases  that  carry  no 
conviction  Elisabeth  declared  that  it  would  be  easier 
for  her  to  forget  her  own  heart  than  the  heart  of 
Mary,  "  ce  cceur  que  je  garde."  Even  a  wise  man 
like  Lethington  persuaded  himself — so  full  of  hopeful- 
ness and  glamour  was  the  time  —  that  substantial 
advantages  might  pass  across  this  rainbow  bridge  of 
feminine  sentiment.  He  assured  Randolph  —  and 
apparently  quite  gravely — that  Mary  "  would  never 
come  to  God  unless  the  Queen's  Majesty  should  draw 
her." 

Negotiations  were  afoot  for  a  meeting  between 
the  two  queens  in  the  summer  of  1562.  In  desiring 
this  interview  Mary  was  entirely  sincere ;  she  had 
everything  to  gain.  She  knew  how  many  there  were 
in  Elisabeth's  kingdom  "inclined  to  hear  offers"; 
she  knew  precisely  the  view  that  devout  Catholics 
were  bound  to  take  of  Elisabeth's  position  ;  the  last 
few  months  had  taught  her  the  political  value  of  a 
marriageable  young  queen  with  a  kingdom  in  her 
dowry,  and  feminine  instinct  was  not  reluctant  that 
a  discerning  world  should  see  herself  and  her  cousin 
face  to  face  and  measure  their  beauties  and  their  wits. 

Two  contradictory  delusions  haunted  Mary  up  to 
the  end  of  her  life  ;  either  that  Elisabeth  with  sudden 
generosity  would  yield  her  all  she  wanted,  or  that  she 
could  raise  a  party  from  Elisabeth's  own  subjects  to 
enforce  her  rights  by  violence. 

They  were  genuine  tears  of  mortification  which 
Mary  shed  when,  at  midsummer,  Elisabeth  decided 
that  the  meeting  could  not  take  place.     It  was  probably 


64  MARY  STUART 

one  of  the  many  plans  that  Elisabeth  had  played  with 
and  never  intended  to  carry  out,  but  the  fresh  religious 
troubles  which  the  ill-considered  action  of  the  Guises 
had  caused  to  break  out  in  France,  furnished  the 
English  Queen  with  sufficient  excuse  for  postponing 
her  journey  northwards. 

If  Mary  had  found  in  Lethington  a  partner  in 
foreign  diplomacy,  she  could  join  hands  with  Lord 
James  in  the  administration  of  the  country.  Both 
were  true  Stuarts  in  their  determination  to  enforce 
order  in  a  country  torn  by  factions  and  knowing  no 
law  but  that  of  the  strongest. 

In  the  November  after  Mary's  arrival  Lord  James 
was  sent  to  the  Border  with  free  hand  to  deal  with 
rievers  and  robbers.  Whilst  he  was  absent  at 
Jedburgh — dispensing  justice  in  a  wholesale,  probably 
quite  necessary  fashion — there  occurred  one  night  a 
mysterious  alarm  at  Holyrood.  A  sudden  rumour 
rose — no  one  knew  how — that  Arran  was  at  hand 
with  an  armed  force  to  carry  off  the  Queen.  Panic 
spread  amongst  the  women,  the  men  hastily  organised 
themselves  into  a  bodyguard  and  occupied  outposts 
round  the  palace  all  night. 

With  daylight  the  terror  vanished  nor  could  any 
sufficient  cause  for  it  be  found.  But  kidnapping 
princes  had  been  the  recognised  policy  of  Scottish 
nobles  during-  the  nonage  of  more  than  one  Stuart 
king  and  a  queen  young  and  marriageable  would  have 
been  a  valuable  prey.  The  Hamiltons  were  not 
above  suspicion.  Old  Chatelherault  held  aloof  cling- 
ing to  the  one  political  fact  he  had  ever  mastered,  his 
own  position  as  heir  to  the  throne,  but  his  son  Arran 
in  his  crazy  brain  was  brooding  over  two  wrongs  ;  his 
own  rejected  suit  and  the  insult  offered  to  "the  religion" 


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HOLYROOD  65 

by  Mary's  mass.  This  he  gently  characterised  "as 
more  odious  in  God's  sight  than  the  sin  of  murder." 
To  a  man  in  his  morbid  condition  offences  were  not 
slow  to  offer  themselves. 

Few  men  have  ever  excited  more  ill-will  among 
their  peers  than  the  Earl  of  Both  well.  In  the  late 
quarrel  he  had  discomfited  the  Protestant  lords, 
capturing  supplies  from  England  and  making  patent 
their  dependence  on  Elisabeth.  But  that  had  been 
the  fortune  of  war ;  the  hostility  of  men  like  Lord 
James  and  Lethington  was  founded  on  personal 
qualities.  He  was  too  boastful,  violent  and  dangerous 
for  genuine  friendship  or  political  alliance ;  too  little 
of  a  time-server  to  pretend  to  either.  With  Arran 
he  had  a  personal  feud,  and,  in  consequence,  both 
moved  about  with  a  dangerous  and  expensive  follow- 
ing. "  Black  Ormistons,"  Hepburns  of  other  ilks, 
reckless  young  scions  of  impoverished  Border  families, 
made  up  Bothwell's  train,  men  ready  for  any  deed  of 
blood  or  rapine  if  he  raised  a  finger. 

Now  it  happened  that  the  Earl  and  Lord  Robert, 
the  queen's  half-brother,  while  hospitably  making  her 
uncle  the  Due  d'Elbceuf  acquainted  with  the  lawless 
pleasures  of  the  town,  had  crossed  the  Earl  of  Arran 
on  a  similar  quest.  A  street  brawl,  on  an  unusually 
large  scale,  had  ensued,  bringing  down  Mary's  dis- 
pleasure on  the  heads  of  all  four. 

Then  quite  suddenly  and  unaccountably  Bothwell 
sought  to  be  reconciled  with  Arran,  using,  oddly 
enough,  Knox's  good  offices  in  the  affair.  He  passed 
at  once  into  suspicious  intimacy  with  his  former 
enemy.  Four  days  later,  Arran,  excited  and  dis- 
tressed, sought  out  Knox  and  poured  out  wild, 
incoherent    accusations    against    Bothwell.       He   had 


66  MARY  STUART 

proposed,  according  to  Arran,  that  they  two  should 
murder  Lord  James  and  Lethington,  kidnap  the 
Queen  and  have  all  the  kingdom  in  their  power.  It 
may  have  been — it  probably  was — a  crazy  delusion 
on  the  part  of  Arran.  But  Bothwell  was  at  any  time 
capable  of  making  a  reckless  throw  for  fortune,  and  at 
that  time  he  had  nothing  to  lose  either  in  wealth  or 
credit.  Here  at  any  rate  was  an  opportunity  for  the 
crown  to  reap  substantial  results  and  for  Lord  James 
to  clear  away  more  than  one  rival.  Mary  might 
soften  to  poor  old  Chatelherault's  protestations  of 
innocence  but  Dumbarton  was  nevertheless  taken  out 
of  his  charge.  Arran  was  shut  up  in  the  prison  from 
which  he  never  emerged,  and  Bothwell  was  put  in 
ward  in  Edinburgh  Castle.  Men  thought  that  Mary 
gave  that  last  order  reluctantly,  and  that  she  was  not 
ill-pleased  when  a  few  months  later  he  broke  his 
prison.  He  was  on  his  way  to  join  her  uncles  in 
France  when  he  was  wrecked  on  the  English  coast. 
Two  years  he  was  kept  a  prisoner  in  England,  then, 
on  Mary's  entreaty,  was  set  free  and  retired  to  France. 
For  three  long  years  he  disappears  out  of  the  story. 

Bothwell  removed  from  the  Border,  the  power  of 
the  Hamiltons  weakened  in  the  west,  there  remained 
the  north  where  Huntly  with  his  wealth,  his  Highland 
hordes  and  his  self-willed  unscrupulous  sons,  was  a 
standing  menace  to  law  and  order.  Catholic  though 
he  was  he  inspired  the  Queen  with  no  confidence,  and 
Lord  James  had  a  personal  animus  against  him.  He 
held  in  irregular  possession  that  Earldom  of  Murray 
on  which  Lord  James'  heart  was  set,  and  fortune  in 
this  case  forwarded  the  godly. 

John  Gordon,  Huntly's  son,  had  been  sent  to  prison 
for  the  customary  crime  of  stabbing  his  enemy  in  the 


HOLYROOD  67 

street.  He  had  the  effrontery  to  break  his  ward,  defy 
the  Queen's  authority  and  flee  to  his  father.  Huntly 
had  the  imprudence  to  uphold  his  son's  action.  Mary 
happened  to  be  on  her  northward  progress  at  the  time. 
Bitterly  displeased,  she  refused  to  be  the  guest  of 
Huntly  at  Strathbogie.  Incredulous  that  she  would 
carry  matters  to  an  extremity  with  the  most  powerful 
Catholic  in  her  kingdom,  Huntly  remained  sullenly 
recalcitrant  till  Lord  James'  action,  prompt  and 
authoritative,  drove  him  into  open  rebellion.  The 
overthrow  of  this  great  house  was  complete,  Huntly 
himself  died  of  apoplexy  in  the  moment  of  defeat,  his 
eldest  son  was  imprisoned  during  the  queen's 
pleasure,  John  Gordon,  the  chief  offender,  was  be- 
headed in  Aberdeen.  The  queen  was  present  at  the 
execution,  some  thought  unwillingly  and  constrained 
by  her  half-brother.  The  sumptuous  plenishings  of 
Strathbogie  were  forfeited  and  carried  south  to 
Holyrood. 

Mary's  high  spirit  had  been  roused  by  opposition, 
she  had  entered  with  zest  into  the  dangers  and  excite- 
ment of  the  campaign,  envying  the  men  who,  with 
casque  and  buckler,  came  in  from  their  night-watch  in 
the  field ;  but  the  complete  triumph  of  Murray — for 
the  coveted  earldom  had,  without  loss  of  time,  been 
openly  conferred  upon  him — was  not  a  main  object  of 
Mary's  policy. 

It  is  curious  that  Mary's  history  was  to  be  more 
intimately  involved  with  the  ruined  House  of  Huntly 
than  with  any  other  family  in  Scotland.  On  the 
Sunday  following  the  murder  of  Riccio  it  was  old 
Lady  Huntly  who  visited  the  deserted  young  queen 
with  schemes  for  her  escape.  At  Craigmillar,  at 
Kirk  o'  Field,  at  Almond  Bridge,  Huntly  was  ever  at 


68  MARY  STUART 

Bothwell's  right  hand.  Tapestry  hangings  from  Strath- 
bogie  covered  the  nakedness  of  the  wretched  chamber 
where  Mary  took  her  last  good-night  of  Darnley  her 
husband.  The  only  human  being  whom  Mary  ever 
cruelly  and  selfishly  injured  was  Lady  Jean  Gordon, 
the  young  and  virtuous  wife  of  Bothwell. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MARY    AND    ELISABETH 
October  1562 — September  1564 

T7ORTUNATELY  for  posterity  a  gift  for  gossip 
-*•  was,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  an  essential  part 
of  a  diplomatist's  equipment.  We  have  seen  the  skill 
with  which  Throckmorton  could  report  conversation  ; 
Philip  of  Spain  was  kept  informed  by  his  ambassador, 
the  Bishop  of  Aquila,  of  the  phases  of  Elisabeth's 
flirtation  with  Lord  Robert  Dudley  with  a  minuteness 
that  would  satisfy  a  novel  reader. 

When  two  queens  rule  neighbouring,  mutually 
suspicious  countries ;  when  each,  by  curious  fate, 
centres  in  herself  the  hopes  of  two  opposing  religious 
parties ;  when  both  are  young,  handsome  and  of 
marriageable  age,  their  personal  inclinations  and  am- 
bitions, their  love  affairs,  their  offers  of  marriage 
become  of  vital  moment  in  the  history  of  politics  and 
diplomacy.  It  was  necessary  for  Elisabeth  and  Mary 
that  each  should  have  at  the  court  of  the  other  an 
envoy,  not  only  devoted  to  the  interests  of  his  mistress, 
but  with  eyes  quick  to  mark  jealousies,  moods, 
alliances  ;  ears  ready  to  pick  up  court  scandals, 
quarrels,  rumours  and  even  sentiments,  and  a  lively 
pen  skilled  to  present  the  court  of  either  queen  agree- 
ably to  her  rival. 

Few  men  have  had  a  finer  gift  for  gossip  than  Sir 

James  Melville,  on  one  occasion   Mary's  envoy  at  the 

court   of   Elisabeth.      Driven    by    some    impish    fate, 

69 


70  MARY  STUART 

working  in  the  interests  of  posterity,  Elisabeth  de- 
livered herself  into  the  hands  of  this  lively  and  adroit 
courtier.  There  is  no  more  humorous  and  telling 
piece  of  portraiture  in  history  than  his  representation 
of  the  virgin  queen. 

This  is  not  the  great  queen  who  could  say  with 
truth  "  I  have  always  behaved  myself  so  that,  under 
God,  I  have  placed  my  chiefest  strength  and  safe- 
guard in  the  loyal  heart  and  good-will  of  my  sub- 
jects"; not  the  high-hearted  Englishwoman  who 
defied  Spain  at  the  head  of  her  soldiers,  declaring  that 
"  in  her  woman's  body  she  had  the  heart  of  a  king  and 
a  Kinor  of  England  too,  and  thought  foul  shame 
that  Spain  or  any  prince  of  Europe  should  dare  to 
invade  the  borders  of  her  realm."  7It  is  the  very 
feminine  Elisabeth,  vain,  jealous,  sentimental,  undigni- 
fied, treacherous,  the  Elisabeth  that  appears  habitually 
in  the  story  of  Mary.  / 

She  evidently  intended  to  make  an  impression  on 
Melville,  wore  every  day  a  new  gown,  and  consulted 
him  as  to  which  became  her  best ;  she  laid  an 
elaborate  plot  that  he  might  surprise  her  in  solitude 
playing  on  the  virginals  ;  he  had  to  delay  his  return 
for  two  days  that  he  might  not  lose  the  chance  of 
seeing  her  dancing  "  high  and  disposedly."  She  spoke 
half  a  dozen  languages  that  he  might  see  her  accom- 
plishments. She  was  shamelessly  eager  to  extract  from 
him  whether  she  were  not  as  fair,  as  tall,  as  golden- 
haired  as  her  younger  cousin.  She  talked  sentimentally 
to  him  about  Lord  Robert  Dudley  as  the  man  she 
loved  "as  a  brother,"  produced  his  portrait  from  her 
cabinet  but  could  hardly  be  persuaded  to  show  it  to 
Melville.  With  incurable,  romping  levity  she  must 
needs  tickle  Lord  Robert's  neck   during  the  serious 


MAkY    BEATON 


MARY  AND  ELISABETH  71 

ceremony  which  invested  him  with  the  earldom  of 
Leicester  and  this  in  the  presence  of  all  the  foreign 
ambassadors.  Rarely  has  any  woman  had  so  small  a 
sense  of  natural  propriety. 

Sir  James'  narrative  excites  suspicion  by  its  very 
picturesqueness.  Far  more  convincing  are  the  life- 
like conversations,  descriptions,  and  anecdotes  that 
crop  up  incidentally  in  the  despatches  of  Thomas 
Randolph,  Elisabeth's  ambassador  at  the  court  of 
Mary.  Honestly  devoted  to  his  own  mistress  and 
her  interests,  and  the  friend  of  Lethington  and 
Murray,  he  might  be  flattered  by  Mary's  gracious- 
ness  into  cordiality  but  seldom  out  of  his  suspicion  of 
her.  At  times  he  irritated  her ;  she  was  always  on 
her  guard  with  him  ;  but  she  admitted  him  to  her 
intimacy,  and  probably  watched  with  amusement  his 
attentions  to  his  "dear  mistress,  worthy  Beaton." 
To  him  we  owe  many  winning  pictures  of  the  frank 
simplicity  of  Mary's  court  life. 

Her  family  affections,  as  we  have  seen,  were 
singularly  warm,  and  the  death  of  her  uncle  the  Duke 
of  Guise  in  February  1563  had  been  a  bitter  grief  to 
her.  She  was  at  St  Andrews  when  Randolph  arrived 
bringing  her  a  letter  of  condolence  from  Elisabeth. 
He  found  her  hawking  in  the  neighbourhood  and 
presented  his  letter.  Her  tears  flowed  so  abundantly 
over  the  kind  words,  that  when  she  rejoined  her  party 
at  the  dining-place  her  sorrowful  face  cost  him  many 
angry  looks  from  her  ladies  till  Mary  explained  how 
much  consolation  her  good  cousin's  letter  had  given 
her.  On  this  same  occasion  Mary  Beaton  "  the 
hardiest  and  wisest "  of  her  Maries,  had  to  break  to 
her  the  death  of  another  uncle,  dead  of  his  wounds, 
and  her  sorrow  broke  out  afresh.     Yet  Randolph  goes 


72  MARY  STUART 

on  to  say  that  that  evening  he  and  Lethington  and 
Murray  succeeded  in  wringing  some  laughter  from  her. 
There  is  another  charming  picture  of  her  two 
years  later,  again  on  a  visit  to  St  Andrews.  She 
lodged  with  a  small  train  in  a  merchant's  house  in 
South  Street,  saw  few  people,  and  "lived  merrily  like 
a  Bourgeois  wife  with  her  little  troop,"  and  there 
received  the  English  ambassador. 

When  Randolph  wanted  to  introduce  the  eternal 
subject  of  her  marriage  she  reproached  him  for  inter- 
rupting the  pastime  with  his  great  and  grave  matters. 
"  I  pray  you,  Sir,  if  you  be  weary  here,  return  to 
Edinburgh  and  keep  your  gravity  and  great  ambassage 
until  the  queen  come  thither.  .  .  .  You  see  here 
neither  cloth  of  state  nor  such  appearance  that  you 
may  think  there  is  a  queen  here  ;  nor  I  would  not 
that  you  should  think  that  I  am  she  at  St  Andrews 
that  I  was  in  Edinburgh."  He  adds  that  it  pleased 
Mary  to  be  very  merry  and  to  call  him  by  many  nick- 
names, the  sober,  serious,  self-conscious  man  of  affairs ! 
Randolph's  letters  and  Knox's  narrative  alike  fail 
to  show  any  weakness  in  Mary.  She  never  lacked 
dignity  nor  presence  of  mind.  Anger  she  showed, 
and  sorrow,  but  never  vanity  nor  indecision  nor  any 
I  of  the  more  ignoble  faults.  Yet  it  was  the  woman  of 
v  the  warmer  heart,  the  more  generous  hand,  the  finer 
nature  who  was  to  meet  with  treachery  and  ingratitude 
"X  on  a^  hands,  while  neither  her  caprice  nor  her  shame- 
less disloyalty  were  to  deprive  Elisabeth  of  the  most 
devoted  and  efficient  services  ever  rendered  to  a  crown. 
In  Elisabeth's  service  men  suffered  bankruptcy,  so 
great  was  her  parsimony  ;  they  took  their  credit  in  their 
hands  knowing  that  she  would  not  scruple  to  disown 
their  actions  if  it  suited  her  convenience ;  they  bore 


QUEEN    ELIZABETH 


MARY  AND  ELISABETH  73 

with  her  temper,  her  violent  language,  her  foolishness 
even  when  these  jeopardised  their  wisest  schemes. 

The  fact  is  that  the  two  countries  were  at  quite 
different  stages  of  development.  England  was  waking 
up  to  a  consciousness  of  her  national  life,  in  every 
direction  she  was  feeling  after  her  destiny.  To  the 
Englishmen  of  that  day,  to  soldiers,  adventurers,  poets 
as  well  as  to  statesmen,  some  symbol  was  necessary  of 
the  national  greatness  for  which  they  were  labouring. 
Such  a  symbol  they  found  and  worshipped  in  their 
maiden  queen.  And  in  truth  there  were  qualities  in 
Elisabeth  to  justify  this  worship.  She  had,  as  it  were, 
an  instinct  divining  the  thought  of  her  people  and 
prescient  of  their  destiny,  she  used  the  large  full  utter- 
ance characteristic  of  the  time,  she  shared  its  audacity, 
its  love  of  adventure,  she  was  the  heart  of  England. 

In  Scotland,  too,  under  thwarting  factions  and 
greedy  barbarisms,  the  national  life  and  conscience 
were  struggling  into  being.  For  a  century  and  a 
half  to  come,  this  life  was  to  develop  solely  along  the 
line  of  a  narrow,  intense,  absorbing  religious  conscious- 
ness. Alone  among  nations  Scotland  had  to  adjust 
her  relations  to  the  Almighty  before  she  took  her 
place  among  civilising  powers.  It  was  the  doom  of 
the  later  Stuart  kings  to  be  one  and  all  in  mortal 
hostility  to  the  spiritual  instincts  of  their  people.  The 
nobler  among  them,  those  who  held  convictions  of 
their  own,  Mary,  Charles  I.,  James  II.  perished  in  the 
conflict,  James  VI.  and  Charles  II.  escaped  through 
sheer  frivolity.  This  cleavage  began  fatally  and 
inevitably  with  Mary  and  was  due  as  much  to  her 
finer  qualities  as  to  her  faults. 

Randolph  tells  us  incidentally  that  Mary  disliked 
Edinburgh.     It  was  not  the  steep,  red-roofed  romantic 


n  MARY  STUART 

little  town  that  excited  her  dislike,  but  the  sense  she 
had  of  a  spirit  in  its  inhabitants,  inquisitive,  censorious 
and  directly  hostile  to  herself.  Month  by  month  the 
strain  between  her  and  her  people  grew  more  tense. 
In  the  year  1562-63  civil  war  was  raging  in  France, 
a  war  for  which  her  uncles  were  mainly  responsible. 
Elisabeth  openly  supported  the  Huguenots;  Mary  could 
not  afford  to  quarrel  with  Elisabeth  but  her  sympathies 
were  naturally  with  her  kinsfolk.  As  naturally  the  sym- 
pathies of  her  subjects  were  on  the  other  side.  The 
populace  of  Edinburgh,  always  demonstrative,  could 
barely  be  restrained  from  posting  placards  wounding 
to  Mary's  feelings  on  the  doors  of  her  palace. 

News  filtered  in  at  long  intervals.  She  was  mainly 
dependent  on  the  English  ambassador  for  information, 
and  it  was  hard  for  her  and  her  ladies  to  command 
their  countenances  when  Glencairn  or  Randolph 
hastened  to  report  some  Protestant  success.  If  she, 
on  her  side,  showed  signs  of  satisfaction  when  the 
fortune  of  war  leaned  the  other  way,  immediately 
the  godly  were  vociferous,  accusing  her  of  rejoicing  in 
the  sufferings  of  God's  people.  A  ball  at  Holyrood 
which  took  place  about  the  time  that  news  arrived  of 
the  fall  of  Rouen  was  the  subject  of  an  angry  sermon 
from  Knox.  Indeed  the  "dancing  and  flinging"  of 
Mary  and  her  "French  fillocks"  (fillettes)  occupied 
a  quite  undue  amount  of  the  reformer's  attention. 
There  was  surely  a  forlorn  and  commendable  courage 
in  the  fact  of  these  ladies  still  professing,  in  un- 
toward circumstances,  "joyeusete"  as  their  plan  of 
life.  To  pass  one's  days  dissimulating  all  spontaneous 
feeling,  and  affecting  toleration  of  all  that  goes  against 
the  grain  is  so  heavy  a  part  that  one  wonders  how 
Mary  could  keep  it  up  so  long.     Life  at  Holyrood, 


MARY  AND  ELISABETH  75 

after  the  first  excitement  was  past,  must  have  been 
dull  enough.  The  very  language  of  her  nobles  was 
unfamiliar  and  uncouth  to  her  ears.  What  had  she 
in  common  with  Ochiltree  and  Glencairn,  stiff,  honest 
Puritans  ?  What  with  the  fierce  Lindsay,  the  greedy 
truculent  Morton  and  the  sinister  Ruthven  ?  Small 
wonder  if  she  and  her  ladies  welcomed  eagerly  anyone 
bringing  with  him  the  old  gay  habits  and  artistic 
charm  of  the  French  court. 

In  the  winter  of  1563  Chastelard  was  back  in  Scot- 
land drawn  by  the  irresistible  fascination  which  was  to 
be  his  doom.  A  passion  for  some  royal  lady  was  part 
of  the  equipment  of  a  court  poet,  and  he  made  no 
secret  of  his  devotion,  pouring  out  sighs  and  sonnets 
at  the  feet  of  the  Oueen  of  Scots.  Such  offerings  were 
frankly  welcome  to  Mary.  Daily  readings  in  Livy 
with  a  thin-skinned  pedant  like  George  Buchanan 
were  dry  nourishment  for  a  romantic  young  woman. 
The  polished  Latin  verses  he  wrote  for  her  masques 
might  be  the  admiration  of  Europe,  but  they  lacked 
the  sweet  intimate  flattery  of  Ronsard's  or  du  Bellay's 
courtly  verse.  Chastelard  was  a  poet  of  the  same 
school  as  these.  He  was  an  adept  in  that  quick- 
witted, half-intellectual,  half-frivolous  social  inter- 
course to  which  Mary  had  been  accustomed.  He 
knew  the  catchwords  of  her  circle,  he  could  recall 
old  laughter  and  reawaken  forgotten  sentiment.  And 
at  all  times  Mary  was  hungry  for  pleasantness  and 
easy  flattery.  She  rubbed  up  her  accomplishment 
of  verse-making  to  return  him  sonnet  for  sonnet. 
They  were  skilful  partners  in  those  elaborate  Re- 
naissance dances  which,  in  graceful  pantomime, 
suggest  dramas  of  passion  or  of  sentiment. 

From  the  times  of  James   III.  and  earlier,   the 


76  MARY  STUART 

Scottish  nobility  had  hated  foreigners  and  despised 
artists.  They  resented  it  bitterly  when  they  found 
this  "  abject  varlet "  (so  they  chose  to  call  Chastelard, 
sister's  son  to  the  Chevalier  Bayard)  hanging  about 
Mary  at  all  hours,  talking  talk  to  her  which  was 
meaningless  to  them. 

Once  and  again  Mary  was  to  make  the  mistake 
of  allowing  familiarity  where  she  found  sympathy. 
Chastelard  was  but  a  feather-brained  youth,  and 
passion  and  vanity  turned  his  head.  On  the  evening 
of  February  12th  [1563]  Mary  was  sitting  up  late 
discussing  important  matters  with  Lethington  and 
Murray.  Her  ladies  waiting  in  her  bed-chamber  had 
fallen  asleep,  and  Chastelard  had  the  audacity  to  step 
in  and  hide  below  her  bed.  Fortunately  the  grooms 
of  the  chamber  discovered  and  drove  him  out  before 
Mary's  approach.  When  informed  of  his  effrontery 
she  angrily  dismissed  him,  and  thought  the  whole 
painful  business  at  an  end. 

Nothing  could  stop  Chastelard's  infatuation.  Two 
nights  later  at  Burntisland  he  burst  into  Mary's  bed- 
room, fortunately  before  she  had  dismissed  her 
ladies.  The  cries  of  dismay  brought  instant  help. 
Murray  was  the  first  on  the  spot.  Mary  adjured 
him  to  avenge  her  on  the  man  who  had  insulted  her. 
Murray  did  rightly  in  preserving  Chastelard  for  the 
slower  vengeance  of  the  law,  but  one  could  have  for- 
given some  degree  of  heat  and  even  of  violence  in  an 
elder  brother  called  in  to  defend  a  sister's  honour  ! 

The  relations  of  Mary  and  her  half-brother  were 
all  the  more  uneasy  because  of  their  necessary  close- 
ness. Three  objects  Murray  had  at  heart ;  to  keep 
a  steady  eye  on  his  own  interests,  to  keep  the  Queen 
of  England  his  friend,  and  to  uphold  the  Protestant 


MARY  AND  ELISABETH  77 

religion.  At  any  moment  one  or  all  of  these  was 
bound  to  run  counter  to  his  allegiance  to  Mary. 
With  curious  subtlety  he  reconciled  these  three 
principles  with  cordial  approval  of  the  Spanish 
marriage.  He  probably  hoped  that  such  a  marriage 
would — after  the  birth  of  an  heir  to  the  throne — re- 
move Mary  from  Scotland  and  leave  the  regency  in  his 
hands.  Lethington  was  even  more  ductile.  "What- 
soever she  most  liketh,  that  he  most  alloweth,"  Ran- 
dolph said  of  him  at  a  later  date.  In  1563  with  all 
the  force  of  her  will  and  brain,  all  the  glow  of  her 
imagination,  Mary  was  working  at  her  scheme  for 
the  Spanish  marriage,  and  Lethington  was  devoting 
all  "his  wisdom  to  conceive  and  his  wit  to  convey" 
to  furthering  her  plans.  On  the  very  night  of 
Chastelard's  first  attempt  he  had  received  final  in- 
structions. He  was  accredited  to  the  courts  of 
England  and  France,  but  had  also  secret  messages 
for  Aquila  the  Spanish  ambassador  in  London. 

It  was  not  without  some  justification  that  Buchanan 
with  heavy  satire  described  Lethington  as  a  chameleon. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  recognise  the  brain  of  the 
Protestant  rebellion  in  Scotland,  the  constant  advocate 
of  union  with  England  in  the  complacent  envoy  sitting 
in  confidential  midnight  tete-a-tete  with  the  Spanish 
ambassador,  easily  talking  away  all  objections  to  the 
match.  The  Scottish  nobles,  he  declared,  would  like 
the  alliance  ;  the  religious  difficulty  could  be  adjusted. 
Then  to  quicken  the  Spaniard's  zeal  a  hint  was 
thrown  out  of  an  alternative  scheme  of  marrying 
the  Scottish  queen  to  her  brother-in-law  the  young 
King  of  France — a  plan  that  would  indeed  have  been 
news  to  Catherine  de  Medici. 

The  advantages  to  Spain  were  obvious.     Aquila 


78  MARY  STUART 

caught  fire  at  once,  so  did  Granvella  when  the  plan 
was  communicated,  even  the  sluggish  imagination  of 
Philip  seemed  kindled  for  a  moment.  But  true  to 
his  motto,  "  io  y  el  tempo,"  he  delayed  action  and 
allowed  difficulties  to  accumulate  and  become  in- 
superable. Objections  arose  on  all  sides.  The 
Cardinal  of  Lorraine  had  been  so  accustomed  to 
manage  Mary's  affairs,  that  without  consulting  her 
he  had  offered  her  hand  to  the  Emperor  for  his 
second  son.  Archduke  Charles,  a  sensible  and  educated 
gentleman,  was  at  a  discount  as  a  suitor.  Elisabeth 
objected  to  him  that  his  head  was  too  large.  Mary 
that  his  wealth  and  power  were  insufficient.  Still  the 
negotiation  complicated  matters  with  Spain.  Philip 
was  unwilling  to  enter  into  competition  with  his  uncle, 
the  Emperor. 

The  Spanish  marriage  had  always  been  a  night- 
mare to  Catherine.  Such  a  policy  would  be  ruinous 
to  France,  such  elevation  of  her  daughter-in-law  the 
bitterest  humiliation  to  herself.  French  opposition 
was  another  obstacle  to  the  irresolute  Philip.  The 
English  government  also  got  word  of  the  negotia- 
tions, and  a  letter  to  the  Queen  of  Scots  made  it 
perfectly  clear  that  Elisabeth  would  resent  as  a 
hostile  act  either  the  Spanish  or  Austrian  marriage, 
or  indeed  any  alliance  that  would  increase  Mary's 
power  and  position.  This  practically  limited  her 
choice  to  one  of  Elisabeth's  subjects  or  one  of  her  own. 
Even  Murray  was  inclined  to  resent  such  interference. 

Meantime  the  most  formidable  difficulty  lay  at 
home  among  Mary's  own  subjects.  The  Spanish 
negotiations  were  to  be  kept  an  absolute  secret,  but 
Knox  had  correspondents  everywhere  and  few  events 
at  the  courts  of  France  and  England  failed  to  reach 


1)()N    CARLOS 


MARY  AND  ELISABETH  79 

his  ears.  In  May  when  the  negotiations  between 
Lethington  and  Aquila  were  most  promising  and 
seemed  most  secret,  Knox  suddenly  fulminated  from 
St  Giles.  "  Dukes  and  the  brethren  of  emperors  and 
kings  were  "  he  knew  "  suitors  to  the  queen."  With 
prophetic  sternness  he  warned  the  nobility  that  in  the 
day  when  they  consented  "that  an  infidel — and  all 
papists  are  infidels — shall  be  head  to  your  sovereign 
ye  do  so  far  as  in  ye  lieth  to  banish  Jesus  Christ  from 
the  realm."  We  have  only  to  remember  the  bitter 
struggle  of  the  Netherlands  against  Spanish  tyranny 
to  recognise  the  entire  reasonableness  of  Knox's  fears. 
In  this  he  was  the  guardian  of  the  future  liberties  alike 
of  England  and  Scotland.  But  from  Mary's  point  of 
view  his  sermon  was  a  monstrous,  unwarrantable  in- 
terference. She  sent  for  him  and  in  a  vehement  fume 
heaped  reproaches  on  him. 

"  What  have  ye  to  do  with  my  marriage  ?  or  what 
are  ye  within  this  Commonwealth  ?  " 

"  A  subject  born  within  the  same  and,  as  God 
hath  made  me,  a  profitable  member." 

We  hear  the  echoes  of  this  notable  phrase  in 
Solemn  Leagues  and  Covenant,  in  Declaration  of 
Rights,  in  Revolution  Settlements,  but  the  sound  was 
too  mighty  to  be  caught  by  contemporary  ears. 
Mary's  burst  of  angry  tears  is  hardly  a  comma  in 
the  march  of  a  great  period. 

Finally  it  was  neither  Knox,  nor  Catherine  nor 
Elisabeth  who  thwarted  Mary's  dearest  ambition. 
In  these  high  political  alliances  one  forgets  that 
personal  qualities  went  for  anything.  The  inhuman 
dislike  Philip  had  to  his  own  son  probably  quickened 
his  perception  that  Don  Carlos'  ill-developed  body, 
dulled  wits  and  brutalised   instincts  unfitted  him  for 


80  MARY  STUART 

the  part  of  Mary's  husband  and  partner  of  her  great- 
ness. True  to  his  nature  Philip  took  months  to  arrive 
at  this  conclusion  and  the  negotiations  wore  on  and 
gradually  dwindled  from  lack  of  response  from  the  side 
of  Spain.  It  was  a  cruelly  trying  time  for  Mary.  She 
had  borne  with  the  constraint  and  disquiet  of  her  lot 
because  she  judged  them  to  be  temporary,  but  from 
the  autumn  of  1563  all  avenues  of  escape  seemed  to 
be  closing  upon  her.  Her  body,  vigorous  enough  but 
highly  strung,  always  responded  to  the  mood  of  her 
soul.  She  was  ill  and  depressed,  weeping  often  with- 
out apparent  cause.  Her  moods  varied.  At  times  she 
still  asserted  that  she  might  marry  where  she  pleased, 
at  others  would  complain  that  she  was  sought  by 
nobody.  Again,  more  in  Elisabeth's  vein,  would 
praise  the  widow's  life  as  best. 

Three  feminine  powers,  like  three  fates,  were 
working  at  Mary's  destiny.  Catherine's  activity  was 
limited  to  thwarting  where  she  could.  Lady  Lennox, 
Mary's  aunt,  had  been  Elisabeth's  prisoner  in  the  tower 
for  the  two  previous  years,  but  in  the  summer  of  1563, 
by  a  sudden  freak  of  Elisabeth's  policy,  the  whole 
family  were  released  and  invited  to  court.  Here  they 
were  much  made  of,  especially  the  boy  Darnley  who 
was  on  all  occasion  recognised  as  first  prince  of  the 
blood.  At  this  period,  too,  Elizabeth  first  petitioned 
Mary  for  the  return  of  the  Lennoxes  to  Scotland. 

The  real  arbiter  of  Mary's  fate  was  however 
Elisabeth.  She  had  posed  as  mother  or  elder  sister 
to  her  cousin.  On  her  lay  the  onus  of  proposing 
some  marriage  she  would  approve  since  she  had 
thwarted  those  already  mooted.  She  could  not  have 
made  a  more  impossible  and  insulting  proposal  than 
the  one  she  had  hinted  at  for  months  and  openly  pro- 


MARY  AND  ELISABETH  81 


pounded  in  February  1564.  Lord  Robert  Dudley 
was  the  second  son  of  the  Earl  of  Northumberland 
who  had  died  attainted  of  treason.  All  his  wealth 
and  position  he  owed  to  that  infatuation  of  Elisabeth 
which  had  been  the  scandal  of  courts  and  the  gossip 
of  ambassadors.  The  suspicion  that  hung  round  the 
death  of  his  wife,  Amy  Robsart,  had  never  been  cleared 
away,  he  had  played  with  all  religious  parties  and 
Cecil,  for  one,  was  under  no  delusion  as  to  the  worth- 
lessness  of  his  character.  The  prudent  Secretary  was 
eager  to  remove  from  the  side  of  his  own  mistress  a 
man  who  was  a  constant  temptation  to  her  folly. 
It  is  more  difficult  to  follow  Elisabeth's  motives.  She 
believed  the  man  whom  she  offered  to  her  cousin  to 
be  passionately  in  love  with  herself.  Perhaps  with 
the  perverted  sentimentality  of  a  woman  devoid  of 
natural,  elementary  feeling,  she  imagined  that  this 
would  continue  when  he  was  Mary's  husband,  and  that 
"  Dudley,  so  trusty  and  loving  "  would  always  put  her 
interests  before  those  of  his  wife  ! 

Mary  read  her  cousin's  motives  with  feminine 
subtlety.  A  man  accepted  by  one  queen  might  be 
regarded  as  an  eligible  suitor  for  another,  Elisabeth 
might  be  only  using  her  cousin  to  enhance  her 
Dudley's  value.  The  negotiations,  unreal  as  they 
were,  became  more  serious  and  absurd.  Elisabeth 
went  the  length  of  suggesting  that  they  three  should 
form  one  household  "at  her  charges."  The  simplest 
explanation  is  that  she  wished  to  put  on  her  cousin 
the  onus  of  refusing  the  suitor  offered.  This  would 
justify  Elisabeth  in  refusing  approbation  of  any 
other.  But  Mary  never  failed  to  put  Elisabeth  in 
the  wrong.  She  would  neither  refuse  nor  accept 
till  Elisabeth  declared  definitely  what  she  proposed 


82  MARY  STUART 

to  do  for  her.  Vague  promises  had  no  meaning.  If 
she  abased  herself  to  such  a  match  and  Elisabeth 
herself  married  and  had  children  or  in  anyway 
disallowed  her  claim,  where  would  Mary  find  herself, 
her  friends  alienated,  her  dignity  lowered  and  nothing 
gained  ? 

Along  with  this  singular  negotiation  other  strands 
were  being  worked  into  Mary's  destiny.  In  the 
summer  of  1563  we  have  seen  Elisabeth,  in  a  sudden 
twist  of  policy,  petitioning  Mary  for  the  recall  of  the 
Lennoxes.  But  a  year  later,  when  Mary  had  lent 
a  willing  ear  to  the  request,  Elisabeth  suddenly  backed 
out  of  the  responsibility,  She  had  the  effrontery  to 
suggest  that  Mary  should  retract  her  permission  to 
Lennox  to  return,  and  should  do  this  as  if  on  her 
own  initiative. 

Elisabeth  had  been  straining  Mary's  patience  for 
many  preceding  months.  It  must  have  been  a  relief 
to  the  Scottish  queen  to  explode  in  righteous  anger 
at  the  intolerable  proposal.  Dissimulate  and  deceive 
as  she  might,  Mary's  pride  at  all  times  forbade  her 
to  go  back  on  her  plighted  word  and  she  had  little 
motive  to  do  so  to  please  her  cousin.  When  Lennox 
arrived  in  September  [1564J  he  had  a  gracious 
reception.  He  was  bidden  to  alight  at  Holyrood 
and  was  merely  allowed  time  to  remove  his  boots 
before  he  was  summoned  into  the  royal  presence. 
His  restoration  to  titles  and  lands  was  solemnly 
proclaimed  at  the  cross  of  Edinburgh.  With 
mischievous  and  exulting  irony  the  proclamation 
declared  emphatically  that  the  restoration  was  for 
the  sake  and  at  the  recommendation  of  the  Queen's 
good  cousin  the  Queen  of  England. 

Twenty  years  of  exile  and  waiting  on  chance  had 


MARY  AND  ELISABETH  83 

not  changed  Lennox.  He  was  vain,  weak,  treacher- 
ous and  at  once  servile  and  overbearing.  During  the 
first  months  of  his  return  he  was  prodigal  of  gifts 
and  civilities.  It  was  noticeable  that  in  a  shower  of 
gifts  none  was  bestowed  on  the  Earl  of  Murray. 

Lennox's  arrival  was  the  signal  for  old  feuds  to 
revive,  making  curious  cross-divisions  in  religious  and 
political  parties.  Outwardly  conciliation  was  the  order 
of  the  day. 

Reconciling  irreconcilable  enemies  was  one  of 
Mary's  constant  occupations,  but  neither  she,  nor  the 
principals  engaged,  nor  any  one  else,  had  any  con- 
fidence in  the  professed  amity  between  Lennox  and 
the  Hamiltons.  The  Earl  of  Morton  held  aloof  till 
he  was  certain  that  no  claim  would  be  made  on  the 
forfeited  land  of  Angus  which  he  was  enjoying.  The 
whole  country  dreaded  the  possible  return  of  Lady 
Lennox  as  "a  plague  no  less  formidable  than  the 
return  of  the  French  soldiery." 

There  was  a  second  thread  in  the  web  that  was  so 
soon  to  entangle  Mary  in  its  meshes.  Ever  since 
Bothwell  had  been  detained  in  England  in  1562, 
petitions  had  been  sent  from  Scotland  for  his  release. 
It  is  surprising  to  find  Lethington's  good  offices 
employed  on  behalf  of  a  man  whom  he  disliked. 
"  Lethington  wishes  to  be  too  great  with  all  men  "  ;  so 
Randolph  explained  his  character.  But  in  this  case 
subtler  influences  were  at  work.  The  two  most  active 
workers  for  Bothwell  were  the  Queen  and  Mary 
Fleming ;  they  alone  felt  any  satisfaction  when  he 
obtained  his  freedom  in    1564. 

He  went  to  France  and  joined  the  king's  guard,  a 
penniless,  swaggering  adventurer,  free  in  his  talk,  eager 
to  pick  up  the  coarse,  loose  gossip  of  the  guardroom. 


84  MARY  STUART 

Yet  another  thread.  Gossip  about  the  Leicester 
marriage  had  spread  at  the  French  court.  Mary 
believed  that  Raulet,  her  French  secretary,  had  been 
indiscreet  and  he  was  dismissed.  For  three  years 
Mary  had  had  among  her  ''chamber  varlets "  an 
Italian  called  Riccio,  "  a  merry  fellow  and  a  good 
musician."  At  the  end  of  1564,  he  took  Raulet's 
place  as  French  secretary,  and  very  quickly  his 
influence  with  Mary  became  unbounded. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

DARNLEY 
February  1565 — July  1565 

TT  is  curious  that  in  all  the  chronicles  we  have  of 
-*-  Mary's  reign  we  never  light  on  a  sunshiny 
morning  till  we  reach  the  fatal  day  at  Carberry. 
Then,  as  now,  the  sun  rode  high  over  Arthur's  Seat 
at  the  summer  solstice  and  meadows  were  green  and 
daisied  round  the  Nor  Loch.  But  in  the  corres- 
pondence of  the  time  no  one  noticed  such  pleasant 
normal  things,  but  constantly  we  find  references  to 
snowstorms  and  fogs,  harvests  mildewed  in  the  fields, 
and  times  of  dearth  and  sickness. 

The  winter  of  1565  was  bitterly  cold,  so  cold  that 
no  tapestry  hangings,  nor  Turkey  carpets  nor  sea- 
coal  fires  could  make  Holyrood  comfortable.  In  the 
worst  of  the  storm  Mary  simply  remained  in  bed  as 
a  means  of  keeping  warm.  Ways  were  blocked,  and 
the  court,  shut  up  more  and  more  within  the  small, 
crowded  palace,  was  specially  active  in  banqueting, 
dancing,  intriguing,  gossiping  and  love-making. 

The  spell  which  had  kept  the  four  Maries  un- 
married was  broken.  Mary  Livingstone,  called  "the 
Lusty,"  was  to  show  her  mistress  the  way  to  the  altar. 
Young  Semple  of  Belrees  was  said  to  have  danced 
himself  into  his  lady's  favour.  Mary  Fleming  could 
boast  a  more  distinguished  suitor.  Lethington,  for 
all  his  forty  years  and  subtle  mocking  spirit,  surprised 
and  amused  his  old  friends  by  the  ardour  of  his  love- 

ss 


86  MARY  STUART 

making.  "We  that  are  lovers  are  always  in  merry 
pin,"  he  wrote  to  Cecil.  If  Randolph  sighed  in 
moderation  for  the  wise  and  spirited  Beaton,  yet  his 
affection  was  constant ;  fourteen  years  later  he  was  to 
write  to  the  Regents  of  Scotland  begging  their  favour 
for  "  my  dear  friend  Lady  Boyne."  Mary  Seton  alone 
seems  to  have  lacked  a  lover.  Years  afterwards  in  the 
colourless  days  at  Sheffield  she  was  to  have  a  gentle, 
elderly  romance  of  her  own.  But  it  closed  sadly,  and 
she  alone  of  all  the  five  ended  her  life  in  religion. 

Meantime  to  the  Mary  of  Maries,  a  suitor  was  at 
last  coming  from  across  the  hills.  All  through  the 
winter  of  1564-65  diplomacy  was  carrying  on  the 
lifeless  old  game.  All  hopes  of  the  Spanish 
marriage  was  dying  down.  There  had  never  been 
any  reality  in  the  Leicester  proposal,  but  for  Mary 
to  refuse  it  categorically  would  have  been  to  lose 
a  point  to  Elisabeth.  Alarmed  at  the  possibility 
of  being  taken  at  her  word  and  either  losing  her 
minion  or  humbling  herself  to  Mary  by  withdrawing 
the  proposal,  Elisabeth  sought  about  for  some  way 
out  of  what  she  described  as  a  "  labyrinth."  A  new 
suitor  must  be  found  to  engage  Mary's  attention ; 
later,  he  might  be  negatived  in  the  usual  way. 
Cecil,  Leicester  and  Elisabeth  agreed  that  Darnley 
mieht  be  allowed  to  join  his  father  in  Scotland. 
For  this  Lennox  had  been  preparing  by  flatteries 
and  banquetings,  for  this  his  far  cleverer  wife  had 
•  been  intriguing  with  letters  and  gifts. 

Rarely  has  any  lad  of  nineteen  gone  out  to  meet 
his  fortune  with  fairer  hopes  and  with  smaller 
deservings.  From  his  childhood  the  wrongs  of  the 
forfeited  lands  of  Angus  and  Lennox  had  been  dinned 
into  one  ear  and  into  the  other  his  closeness  to  the 


OF  ^WE 

UNlVERs/Ty 


'^-IFOB 


HENRY,   LOUD    DARN  LEY 


DARNLEY  87 

thrones  of  England  and  of  Scotland.  Marriage  with 
his  beautiful  cousin  the  Queen  of  Scots  was  the  goal 
for  which  his  mother  had  planned  his  education.  He 
was  bred  a  Catholic  that  he  might  become  the  centre 
of  Catholic  disaffection  in  England,  but  his  convictions 
were  not  suffered  to  take  inconvenient  hold  upon  him. 
He  had  the  accomplishments  of  the  gilded  youth  of 
all  times,  could  ride,  hawk,  hunt,  tread  a  measure, 
touch  a  lute.  For  the  rest,  he  swaggered  and  ruffled 
it,  bullied  where  he  might  with  impunity,  and  could 
cringe  and  apologise  painfully  when  he  was  frightened. 
Just  before  his  death,  in  the  emotional  weakness  of 
recovery  from  sickness,  he  was  to  plead  with  Mary 
"  I  am  yet  but  young,"  and  at  the  bar  of  history — 
singularly  relentless  always  to  Darnley — the  smooth 
boyish  face  with  the  wide,  vacant  eyes  still  pleads  in 
extenuation  of  sins  and  follies,  "  I  am  but  young." 

Early  in  February  1565  he  crossed  the  Border 
which  he  was  never  to  recross.  Mary  was  in  Fife  on 
one  of  her  numerous  progresses.  At  Edinburgh, 
Darnley  was  the  guest  of  Lord  Robert,  the  wild, 
genial  young  blood,  ready  at  all  times  to  share  the 
follies  of  any  man,  of  d'Elboeuf  or  Bothwell  or  Darnley. 
Either  from  poverty  or  boyish  lack  of  prevision 
Darnley  came  unprovided  with  horses  and  borrowed  a 
pair  from  Randolph  to  speed  him  to  Fife.  At 
Wemyss  Castle  on  the  north  shore  of  the  Firth  of 
Forth  the  two  cousins  met  on  February   17th. 

For  four  years  Mary  had  been  a  widow,  for  four 
years  every  unmarried  man  in  Europe  of  suitable 
rank  had  been  spoken  of  as  her  husband,  but  during 
all  that  time  she  had  seen  no  man — except  poor  mad 
Arran — who  might  venture  to  address  his  suit  to  her 
or  speak  words  of  love  that  were  neither  conventionality 


88  MARY  STUART 

nor  effrontery.  She  was  wearied,  disappointed  and 
exasperated  with  all  the  marriage  negotiations ;  she 
was  young,  beautiful,  warm-hearted,  and  passionate. 

Of  vanity  and  the  desire  for  conquest  there  is 
little  trace  in  Mary ;  she  had  the  stronger,  more 
primitive,  more  fatal  desire  for  self-surrender.  If  she 
were  a  queen  she  would  love  like  a  queen,  laying 
her  crown  and  authority  at  the  feet  of  him  on  whom 
she  would  bestow  her  heart. 

She  had  been  lonely  all  these  years.  Of  those 
who  had  guided  her  youth,  Duke  Francis  was  dead 
and  the  last  months  had  convinced  her  of  the  purely 
self-regarding  policy  of  the  Cardinal.  He  was  fighting 
for  place  and  influence  and  used  her  marriage  simply 
as  a  counter  in  his  own  game.  "  Truly  I  am  beholden 
to  my  uncle,"  she  had  said  in  bitter  disillusionment ; 
"so  that  it  be  well  with  him,  he  careth  not  what 
becometh  of  me."  There  was  no  man  of  all  about 
her  court  whose  advice  she  would  take,  indeed  there 
was  not  one  whose  advice  would  be  disinterested. 
Her  ladies,  fond  and  faithful,  were  accustomed  to 
give  sympathy  not  counsel.  She  had  recklessly 
accustomed  herself  to  confidence  and  intimacy  with 
a  mere  servant  like  Riccio,  and,  by  understanding 
her  wishes  and  hastening  to  meet  them,  the  Italian 
had  acquired  extraordinary  influence  over  her.  As 
soon  as  he  saw  her  thoughts  inclining  towards  Darnley 
he  cultivated  his  intimacy  and  became  his  ardent 
advocate. 

Darnley  spent  but  one  night  at  Wemyss,  but  he 
had  made  a  favourable  impression :  he  was  "  the 
lustiest  and  best  proportioned  long  man  she  had 
seen,"  she  said.  He  returned  with  her  to  Edin- 
burgh   and    enjoyed    all    the    pleasures    the    capital 


DARNLEY  89 

could  offer.  Murray  was  intent  on  being  hospitable 
and  Darnley  on  being"  gracious.  To  please  his  host 
Darnley  attended  Knox's  sermon  in  the  morning, 
to  please  his  guest  Murray  invited  him  to  dance  a 
galliard  with  Mary  in  the  evening.  Murray,  who 
could  be  splendid  on  occasion,  gave  a  banquet  at 
Holyrood  and  the  company  laughed  when  Mary  sent 
a  merry  message  complaining  that  she  had  not  been 
included  among  the  guests. 

With  joyous  excitement  Mary  felt  her  heart 
following  the  path  to  which  policy  was  pointing.  On 
March  1 6th  Elisabeth  nettled  and  insulted  her  bya  letter 
which  made  it  clear  that  marriage  would  do  nothing 
towards  settling  the  succession  of  the  English  crown. 
In  her  anger  Mary  calculated  that  marriage  with  Darnley 
would  double  her  legal  right  to  that  succession  and 
would  show  Elisabeth  how  lightly  she,  Mary,  regarded 
the  minion  of  the  English  Queen.  Nor  need  she 
forego  her  favourite  triumph  of  putting  Elisabeth  in 
the  wrong.  The  English  Queen  had  limited  her  choice 
to  a  Scotch  or  English  nobleman  and  Darnley  was 
both.  So  love-making  went  on  apace  with  lute  play- 
ing and  games  of  bowls,  with  masking  and  merry- 
making, with  laughter  and  sweet  low  whispering. 

Mary  never  liked  Edinburgh,  nor  Holyrood  lying 
in  its  low  damp  meadows.  Early  in  April  the  court 
was  at  Stirling.  Then,  as  if  to  prove  how  much  he 
was  a  child,  Darnley  must  needs  fall  ill  of  the  measles. 
A  feverish,  irritable  boy  suffering  from  a  nursery  com- 
plaint seems  hardly  a  consort  for  a  heroine  of  romance, 
but  Mary's  affections  were  already  deeply  engaged. 
Pity,  anxiety,  the  womanly  passion  for  nursing,  all 
hurried  her  along  the  path  she  was  so  willing  to  tread. 
Early  and  late  °  he  hath  tendance  of  the  greatest  and 


X 


90  MARY  STUART 

fairest,"  writes  Randolph.  She  was  so  reckless  in  the 
long,  late  hours  she  spent  in  his  room  that  tongues 
began  to  wag.  The  gossip  reached  Lady  Lennox — 
once  more  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower — and  filled  her 
with  undisguised  exultation ;  it  also  shocked  the 
maidenly  reserve  of  Elisabeth,  and  she  begged 
Lethington  to  contradict  the  report. 

At  this  time  Mary  had  freed  herself  from  the  re- 
straining influence  of  Murray  and  of  Lethington.  The 
latter  was  sent  to  England  in  April,  ostensibly  with 
a  message  to  the  English  court,  but  it  was  com- 
paratively indifferent  to  Mary  whether  Elisabeth 
approved  her  marriage,  or  disapproved  it  as  she  was 
morally  certain  to  do.  If  she  could  persuade  the 
King  of  Spain  to  sanction  her  marriage  with  Darnley 
and  support  their  double  claim  to  the  English  succes- 
sion, she  would  have  little  reason  to  regret  the  Spanish 
marriage  and  might  triumphantly  follow  the  leading 
of  her  own  heart.  The  real  object  of  Lethington's 
embassy  to  London  was  discussed  in  secret  and  satis- 
factory interviews  with  the  Spanish  ambassador. 

In  April  Mary  had  quarrelled  with  Murray  who  had 
suddenly  taken  the  line  of  opposing  her  marriage  with 
Darnley.  In  dudgeon  he  had  retired  to  St  Andrews. 
She  was  heartily  tired  of  the  long  dissimulation  of  her 
relations  to  her  half-brother. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Mary  was  "  fey  "  in  these 
spring  days  at  Stirling.  She  was  carried  away  by 
excitement,  defiantly  challenging  criticism,  eager  for 
new  forms  of  amusement.  In  his  romantic  youth  her 
father  had  wandered  freely  among  his  subjects  in 
various  disguises.  The  freak  seized  Mary  to  repeat 
these  mystifications.  One  day  she  and  her  ladies 
dressed  up — a  most  transparent  disguise — as  burgher 


DARNLEY  91 

wives  and  teased  and  cajoled  the  passers-by  to  give 
them  money  for  a  banquet.  She  was  not  under 
happy  influences  at  this  time.  Like  other  lonely 
great  ones  she  was  too  prone  to  be  influenced  by 
servants.  Riccio,  flexible  and  of  ready  resource, 
was  her  chief  counsellor.  He  managed  her  foreign 
affairs,  quickened  and  extended  her  correspon- 
dence with  Philip  and  the  Pope.  In  her  impatience 
of  public  opinion  she  was  careless  of  conciliating  her 
Protestant  subjects.  Easter  was  celebrated  this 
spring  with  defiant  publicity  and  elaboration.  In 
domestic  affairs  Riccio  shaped  his  counsel  to  his 
mistress'  desires,  and  was  the  serviceable  friend  of 
Darnley  and  the  constant  advocate  for  the  marriage. 
So  were  all  the  men  who  in  these  reckless  days  were 
Mary's  intimates.  Lennox,  eager  and  subservient,  was 
ready  to  countenance  any  rash  act  that  would  advance 
his  son  ;  Lord  Robert  was  cheerfully  working  for  a 
state  of  things  that  promised  less  restraint  and  more 
enjoyment.  Lord  Ruthven,  a  kinsman  of  Lady 
Lennox,  had  acquired  sudden  influence  ;  men 
whispered  of  rings  and  bracelets,  and  spells  cast  by 
his  unholy  skill.  And  meantime  the  Maries,  these 
wise,  prudent  ladies  were  clean  out  of  favour  and 
mostly  stayed  at  home  when  their  mistress  rode 
abroad,  each  probably  consoling  herself  with  her  own 
particular  love  affair. 

Most  of  the  accounts  that  we  have  of  Mary  at  this 
time  come  from  Randolph,  and  Randolph  was  at  a  com- 
plete discount  and  kept  at  a  distance.  He  and 
Murray  would  meet  and  discuss  Mary's  looks  and 
behaviour,  and,  like  the  virtuous  men  they  were,  would 
hope  the  best  and  insinuate  the  worst ;  and  then  the 
English   ambassador  with    many    an   "  I   could  an   I 


92  MARY  STUART 

would  "  and  "  saving  your  presence  "  would  convey  the 
worst  impression  he  could  to  his  correspondent  Cecil. 

As  the  weeks  passed  on  he  reported  varying  moods 
on  Mary's  part.  Her  very  beauty  he  declared  was 
altered  from  what  it  was ;  also,  he  was  convinced, 
she  had  "fallen  into  contempt  with  all  men";  her 
passions  struck  this  fastidious  observer  "as  more  fervent 
than  is  comely  for  even  meaner  persons."  Also  he 
had  to  report  rather  uneasily  the  general  belief  in 
Scotland  that  Darnley  had  been  sent  by  Elisabeth 
that  Mary  might  fall  into  the  trap  and  mate  herself 
meanly.  However,  neither  facts  nor  the  detection  of 
facts  ever  disconcerted  Elisabeth.  Early  in  May 
Mary's  old  friend  Throckmorton  was  sent  down  with 
a  peremptory  message  to  Mary  to  stay  the  marriage, 
and  to  Lennox  and  his  son  to  return  to  England. 

He  travelled  to  Scotland  with  Lethington,  and 
probably  was  taken  in  by  the  Secretary's  indignant 
condemnation  of  the  rashness  of  his  mistress  the 
Queen  of  Scots.  But  while  Throckmorton  was 
detained  at  Edinburgh  by  royal  prohibition,  Lethington 
had  joined  the  Queen  at  Stirling  and  had  relieved  her 
mind  by  the  assurance  that  de  Silva — the  able  and 
urbane  successor  of  the  Bishop  of  Aquila  as  Spanish 
ambassador — had  smiled  upon  her  project  and  was 
communicating  the  same  to  the  King  of  Spain.  Even 
without  this  assurance,  Mary  was  prepared  to  defy 
Elisabeth,  Murray,  the  Hamiltons,  Argyle,  and  the 
Protestant  ministers  and  to  marry  the  man  of  her 
heart  in  spite  of  them.  On  the  15th  of  May  in  the 
presence  of  her  chief  nobility  she  created  Darnley 
Earl  of  Ross  with  sundry  other  titles.  During  the 
ceremony  the  English  ambassador  rode  up  to  the 
castle,  but   Mary's   spirit  was  up  and  she  kept  her 


DARNLEY  93 

doors  closed  upon  him  till  leisure  served  to  grant 
him  an  interview. 

There  was  always  a  good  understanding  between 
Mary  and  this  honest  ambassador  of  Elisabeth's,  and 
she  showed  him  plainly  that  for  no  consideration  would 
she  give  up  marriage  with  Darnley.  All  he  gained 
was  the  promise  that  the  marriage  should  be  delayed 
for  three  months.  Mary  probably  calculated  the  time 
to  allow  of  an  answer  from  Philip  and  the  arrival  of 
the  papal  dispensation  —  always  necessary  in  the 
marriage  of  near  kinsfolk. 

It  was  clear  to  Throckmorton's  observing  eye 
that  parties  were  drawing  into  hostile  camps  much 
as  they  had  done  in  the  Queen's  mother's  time  in  1559. 
Murray,  Chatelherault  and  Argyll  were  forming  a  bond 
for  mutual  defence.  A  message  was  secretly  conveyed 
to  them,  not  through  the  English  ambassador  but 
through  Randolph,  that,  in  the  worst  extremity  they 
might  look  for  help  in  the  accustomed  quarter.  This 
confirmed  Murray  in  his  recalcitrancy.  He  refused  to 
attend  a  Parliament  summoned  at  Perth,  because  he 
declared  that  he  had  evidence  that  Darnley  and  his 
father  were  plotting  to  murder  him.  To  show  their 
abhorrence  of  such  devices  he  and  Argyll  made  a 
counterplot  to  fall  upon  Mary,  Darnley  and  Lennox,  on 
their  way  from  Perth  to  Edinburgh.  Mary  got  wind 
of  this  plot.  The  day  had  been  fixed  for  her  return  ; 
she  made  no  panic-stricken  change  of  plans  but  ordered 
her  horses  at  daybreak,  and  she  and  her  train  had 
galloped  past  within  four  miles  of  Loch  Leven  before 
Murray  was  fully  awake  in  his  chamber  in  the  castle. 

On  the  7th  of  July  a  special  envoy,  sent  to  the 
English  court,  returned  and  with  melancholy  visage 
brought  angry  injunctions  to  the  Lennoxes  to  return, 


94  MARY  STUART 

but  in  secret  conveyed  a  missive  to  the  Queen  in 
which  Philip  of  Spain  sanctioned  her  marriage  with 
Darnley  with  a  warmth  and  decision  rare  indeed  in 
his  correspondence. 

It  was  all  the  lovers  had  been  waiting  for.  Two 
days  later  they  were  privately  married,  and  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  summer  twilight  rode  off  to  Lord 
Seton's  house  on  the  Firth  of  Forth.  Let  the  reader, 
as  Master  Knox  would  say,  note  the  place.  The 
papal  dispensation,  he  may  also  note,  had  not  yet 
arrived.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  was  not  signed 
at  Rome  till  the  end  of  September.  It  is  the  measure 
of  her  infatuation  that  so  good  a  Catholic  as  Mary 
could  marry  her  cousin  without  a  dispensation.  This 
would  at  a  later  time  have  been  a  sufficient  reason 
for  a  divorce  if  a  mere  divorce  had  sufficed  to  solve 
the  Darnley  difficulty. 

On  the  28th  of  July,  in  defiance  of  Elisabeth  and 
with  three  of  her  most  important  kinsmen  on  the  edge 
of  rebellion,  Mary  was  publicly  married  to  Darnley  in 
the  chapel  of  Holyrood.  Yet  to  those  about  her 
Mary  had,  at  times,  seemed  anxious  and  depressed, 
like  one  that  has  "  a  misliking  of  her  own  deeds." 

There  is  a  painful  interest  in  following  the  de- 
meanour of  Darnley  through  those  months  of  court- 
ship. We  saw  him  in  the  early  days  gracious  to  all 
and  bent  on  popularity.  But  soon  it  seemed  as  if  the 
undisciplined  boy  had  nothing  more  urgent  to  do  than 
to  make  enemies  of  the  older  men,  men  whose  vindic- 
tiveness  and  pride  and  relentless  hate  his  slender 
understanding  could  not  gauge.  In  a  mischievous 
moment  Lord  Robert  had  shown  him  on  a  map  the 
large  estates  of  the  Earl  of  Murray,  and,  as  if  resent- 
ing encroachments  on  a  kingdom  already  his,  Darnley 


DARNLEY  95 

pronounced  them  too  large.  He  had  to  apologise  to 
Murray  for  his  rash  words,  the  first  of  other  apologies 
he  was  to  be  forced  to  make.  Nor  were  rash  words 
his  sole  offence.  The  feud  between  the  Lennoxes 
and  Hamiltons  had  always  run  high.  Probably  the 
feverishness  of  measles  was  added  to  Darnley's  natural 
pettishness  when  he  declared  that  he  would  break  the 
Duke's  pate  for  him — the  Duke  being  old  enough  to 
be  his  grandfather!  He  actually  drew  his  dagger  on 
the  Justice  Clerk,  one  of  his  own  supporters,  who  had 
to  break  a  disappointment  to  him.  His  bursts  of 
childish  rage  have  led  historians  to  believe  that  even 
in  these  early  days  he  indulged  in  those  bouts  of 
drinking  which  later  caused  Mary  such  painful  morti- 
fication. He  was  no  less  frivolous  than  violent. 
When  Elisabeth's  peremptory  recall  was  announced 
to  Lennox  and  his  son,  Mary  wept ;  Lennox  was 
downcast  but  Darnley  treated  the  message  with  airy 
insolence.  The  basest  side  of  his  character  appears 
in  his  treatment  of  Mary.  There  is  no  indication 
that  he  gave  any  affection  in  return  for  the  passionate, 
self-forgetful  devotion  she  lavished  on  him. 

From  the  moment  she  gave  him  her  heart,  she 
gave  him  also  "honour,  submission  and  obedience  as 
to  her  husband  and  king."  He  had  no  sense  of  her 
generosity  and  condescension  in  this.  The  delusion 
of  "  next  heir  to  the  throne  "  had  been  dinned  into  his 
ears  from  childhood.  In  all  she  bestowed  he  thank- 
lessly saw  only  his  due  and  his  deservings.  One 
wonders  if  anything  could  have  burnt  the  stupidity  out 
of  such  a  man.  It  certainly  needed  no  prophetic  gift 
in  Randolph  to  fear  that  such  a  creature  "  could  have 
no  long  life  among  this  people." 


CHAPTER  IX 

RICCIO'S    MURDER 
August  1565 — March  1566 

"IMMEDIATELY  after  her  marriage  Mary  was 
'*■  face  to  face  with  open  rebellion.  She  was  well 
prepared  for  it,  nay,  she  had  precipitated  it  by 
summoning  her  brother  to  appear  in  his  own  justifica- 
tion. This  he  not  unnaturally  refused  to  do,  and  on 
August  6th  he  was  "  put  to  the  horn." 

Murray  calculated  that  the  situation  of  1559  would 
be  repeated  with  improved  conditions.  For  five 
years  the  preachers  had  had  their  way  and  their  say. 
It  was  not  too  much  to  expect  that  they  had  raised 
up  a  Protestant  power  solid  and  stout  to  fight  against 
the  idolatry  they  denounced.  If  it  had  been  Elisabeth's 
interest  to  interfere  between  Mary  of  Guise  and  her 
subjects,  would  she  be  less  eager  to  strike  a  blow  at 
a  rival  whose  designs  on  her  throne  had  become  a 
definite  menace?  There  was  much  to  justify  these 
calculations  but  they  were  entirely  falsified  by  the 
event. 

The  promptitude  of  Mary's  action  paralysed  the 

rank  and    file   of  the    Protestants.     The    citizens   of 

Edinburgh,   Knox's  congregation,   closed  their  doors 

and  their  purses  to  Murray's  appeal,  and  at  the  sound 

of  Erskine's  guns  from  the  Castle,  urged  him  to  quit 

their   town.       The   gift   of   ^3000    which    Randolph 

smuggled  into  the  hands  of  Lady  Murray  was  as  far 
96 


RICCIO'S  MURDER  97 

as  Elisabeth  would  go  in  fulfilling  her  promise.  She 
could  not  risk  a  quarrel  with  Mary  with  her  own 
Catholic  subjects  ready  to  rise  at  the  first  signal 
from  Spain. 

After  weary  marches  and  flat  failure  to  raise  the 
country,  Murray  and  his  confederates  found  themselves 
in  October  at  Dumfries,  lacking  soldiers,  money, 
credit  or  hope  of  help  from  England.  This  un- 
expected result  was  entirely  due  to  the  high  spirit 
and  promptitude  of  the  Queen.  Even  before  her 
wedding  she  had  summoned  her  lieges  to  meet  her 
in  Edinburgh  within  fifteen  days  "  boden  in  feir  of 
war."  Her  object  was  to  secure  allies  abroad  and 
gather  round  her  efficient  servants  at  home.  Riccio 
and  she  sent  urgent  messages  to  the  King  of  Spain 
and  to  the  Pope  entreating  for  help  in  the  shape  of 
money,  and  representing  their  present  jeopardy  as  due 
to  religious  differences  with  her  subjects. 

Half  of  her  nobles  were  among  the  factious ;  of 
those  who  remained,  there  were  few  whom  she  could 
really  trust.  Lethington  had  not  joined  his  old  friends 
— love  of  Mary  Fleming  prevented  his  deserting  her 
mistress — but  there  was  room  for  only  one  con- 
fidential secretary  and  it  was  a  serious  mortification  to 
Lethington  to  see  his  post  occupied  by  an  Italian 
upstart.  Morton  could  be  calculated  on  to  consult 
nothing  but  his  own  interests.  Others  such  as 
Ruthven  had  ties  of  kinship  with  the  Lennoxes  but 
were  accustomed  to  act  with  the  Protestant  lords. 
Mary  needed  strong  men  at  her  side  whose  interest  it 
would  be  to  be  faithful  to  her.  Lord  Gordon,  the 
representative  of  the  Huntlys,  was  released  from  his 
long  captivity  and  restored  to  his  title.  His  hatred 
of  the  Earl  of  Murray  would  be  sufficient  guarantee 


98  MARY  STUART 

of  his  faithfulness.     And  at  the  end  of  August  she 
summoned  from  France  the  Earl  of  Bothwell. 

In  the  previous  March  that  keen  observer,  Kirk- 
caldy of  Grange,  had  said  that  Mary  kept  Bothwell  in 
her  pocket  to  shake  out  against  her  enemies.     She 
knew  his  serviceableness  ;  he  knew  that  her  enemies 
were  his  enemies,  beyond  this  there  seemed  as  yet  to  be 
no  tie  between  them.      In  the  preceding  spring  [1565] 
Bothwell,  braving  the  law  and  the  Queen's  authority, 
had  dared  to  return   to   his  home   on   the    Borders. 
Mary  raised  no  finger  to  restore  him  when  he  should 
have  "  stood  his  day  of  law  "  in  Edinburgh.     Murray 
was  suffered  without  remonstrance  to  occupy  the  city 
with  6000  men.      If  such  methods  of  overriding  law 
and  justice  were  in  those  wild  days  employed  by  men 
like  Murray  and  Knox,  it  can  hardly  be  wondered  at 
that  Bothwell  followed  the  precedent  on  a  later  "  day 
of  law."     On  this  occasion  he  sullenly  recognised  the 
strength  of  his  enemies  and  withdrew  again  to  France. 
Bothwell    had    reason    enough    to    hate    Murray  and 
Lethington  if  there  were  any  truth   in   the   story  he 
alleged.     One  of  his  servants  confessed  in  a  moment 
of  panic  that  he  and  two  others  had  been  bribed  by 
his    enemies    to    murder    their    master.      They    were 
actually  on  the  door-step  of  his  chamber  with  intent 
to  murder,  when   the   dread  of  his   fierceness  threw 
such  a  chill   upon   them  that  they  collapsed  and   in 
terror  fled  from  the    castle.     A  brave,  fierce  soldier 
of    fortune,     Bothwell     was     as     unscrupulous    with 
his  tongue  as  he  was  violent  with  his  sword.      "  His 
own   Queen  and    the   Queen   of  England  would   not 
together  make  one   honest  woman,"  he  scoffed,  and 
doubtless  the  words  had  been  reported  to  the  Scottish 
Queen.     Rough  and  insolent,  he  was  still  a  man  and 


RICCIO'S  MURDER  99 

a  soldier,  and  Lennox  and  his  son  were  neither.  So, 
such  as  he  was,  Bothwell  was  the  man  for  Mary's 
purpose.  She  herself — it  is  the  hostile  Knox  who 
is  our  authority — was  the  best  man  in  the  country, 
a  far  more  notable  warrior  than  the  boy  in  the  fine 
gilded  corslet  by  her  side.  She  unaffectedly  loved  the 
stir  of  camps,  the  fierce  joy  of  fighting,  the  eager 
pursuit  of  revenge.  In  this  she  was  a  true  daughter 
of  the  House  of  Guise,  the  kinswoman  of  men  who 
would  risk  a  defeat  by  their  inability  to  resist  the 
hazard  of  a  brilliant  cavalry  charge,  men  who  bore 
the  nickname  of  "  Le  Balafre"  as  an  hereditary  title. 
In  the  wet  and  slush  and  shortening  days  of  a  Scottish 
autumn,  "albeit  the  most  part  waxed  weary,  yet  the 
Queen's  courage  increased  manlike  so  much  that  she 
was  ever  with  the  foremost." 

It  was  at  Dumfries  that  Murray,  beaten,  dis- 
heartened and  alarmed,  turned  a  cruel  and  cowardly 
weapon  against  his  sister.  To  Drury,  the  special 
envoy  from  England,  and  to  Bedford — both  his  corre- 
spondents— he  gave  hints  of  horrid  scandals  which  he 
might  reveal.  "His  sister  hated  him,"  he  averred, 
"  because  he  knew  that  concerning  her  which  respect 
would  not  suffer  him  to  reveal."  This  is  the  first 
suggestion  we  have  of  the  Riccio  slanders.  Murray 
was  the  author  of  them  in  the  first  place ;  Elisabeth 
was  not  slow  to  report  them  with  feigned  reluctance 
to  the  French  ambassador.  By  the  end  of  October 
Murray  and  his  associates  had  fled  to  England,  there 
to  suffer  public  mortification  at  the  hands  of  the 
unscrupulous  Queen.  But  that  belongs  to  the  story 
of  Murray — a  story,  curiously  enough,  still  unwritten. 

Mary  had  cleared  her  path  of  her  enemies ;  her 
credit  stood  high.     She  had  comfortable  assurances 


100  MARY  STUART 

from  her  allies  abroad.     But  if  she  thought  that  she 
was  at  last  to  rule  at  her  pleasure,  she  was  quickly  to 
learn  that  there  is  no  bondage  so  great  as  that  of  a  high 
spirited  woman  married  to  a  self-willed  fool.     As  early 
as  December  Randolph  reports  friction  between  them. 
With   a  conventional  smile   he  speaks  of  amantiwn 
irce.     Unfortunately    the    differences    lay    far  deeper, 
in  a   fundamental    inequality  of  nature.     Mary   had 
instinctive    authority,    a    lifelong   habit    of  rule,    an 
unusual  power  of  giving  her  whole  energies  to  affairs. 
Darnley  had  merely  the  restless  desire  of  an  inefficient 
and  conceited  boy  to  make  himself  felt  and  to  hamper 
other  men's  plans  with  his  own  self-importance.    There 
was  bound  to  be  friction  with  every  decision,  with  every 
act,  public  or  private.     The  first  important  disagree- 
ment was  early  in  September.     Darnley,  regarding  the 
kingdom  merely  as  his  family  inheritance,  demanded 
the  governorship  of  the  Border  for  his  father.     Instead 
Mary   appointed    Bothwell,   himself  a   Borderer   and 
allied  with  all  the  bravest  and  fiercest  Border  families, 
and   a  sworn    enemy   to    England.      She   knew   the 
character  of  Lennox  and  had  been   irritated  by  the 
accounts  that  had  reached  her  of  his  extortions  at 
Glasgow. 

All  this  autumn  her  mind  was  set  on  further 
ambitions  and  foreign  alliances  and  subsidies  to  be 
obtained  from  the  Pope  and  the  King  of  Spain. 
Closeted  with  Riccio  she  worked  out  her  daring  and 
subtle  schemes,  ignoring  the  sulky  frivolous  boy 
incapable  of  counsel,  but  furious  at  being  ignored. 

After  a  time  it  is  evident  that  she  not  only  ex- 
cluded him  from  her  counsels,  but  shaped  her  policy 
in  total  disregard  of  his  feelings  and  interests.  In 
August   she  had    insisted  to   Elisabeth's  envoy   that 


RICCIO'S  MURDER  101 

her  husband  should  receive  the  title  of  king,  but 
when  it  suited  her  later  on  to  conciliate  her  cousin,  the 
husband  was  quietly  dropped  into  the  background. 

It  was  good  policy  on  her  part  to  grant  a  mitigated 
pardon  to  old  Chatelherault  and  his  sons  for  the  part 
they  had  taken  in  the  rebellion,  but  she  did  it  with  the 
greater  alacrity  that  the  pardon  of  their  rivals  was  a 
blow  to  her  husband  and  his  father.  With  vain  im- 
portunity did  both  weary  Mary  about  the  granting  of 
the  crown  matrimonial — a  title  that  would  bestow 
equal  rights  during  Mary's  life-time  and  undisputed 
succession  to  the  throne  if  he  survived  her.  On  this 
point  Mary  was  firm.  So  the  king  hunted  and 
hawked,  going  off  on  sporting  expeditions  to  Peebles 
and  into  Fife,  signed  documents  when  the  humour 
took  him,  neglected  his  wife  when  she  was  ill  and 
direfully  disgraced  her  by  his  brawling  dissipated 
habits.  Once,  when  they  were  guests  of  a  certain 
honourable  burgher  in  Edinburgh,  Mary  with  tears 
tried  to  restrain  her  husband  from  drinking  to  excess 
and  encouraging  others  to  do  the  same.  Rambouillet, 
a  French  nobleman,  was  sent  from  the  French  king 
to  confer  on  him  the  Order  of  the  Cockle,  and  the 
young  king  thought  it  a  good  joke  to  mark  the 
occasion  by  making  two  of  his  gentlemen  intoxicated 
with  aqua  composita  (probably  whisky).  It  is  small 
wonder  that  Mary,  with  angry  contempt,  removed 
him  from  her  counsels.  A  stamp  was  made  of  his 
signature  and  this  Riccio  kept  and  appended  to 
documents. 

Unable  to  bend  her  judgment  to  his  will,  and  feel- 
ing his  hold  on  her  affections  going  fast,  Darnley 
was  in  the  mood  when  he  must  oppose  and  thwart. 
She  was  in  a  careless  and  worldly  vein  at  Christmas 


102  MARY  STUART 

time  (1565),  sitting  up  late  into  the  night  playing  cards 
with  Riccio  and  others,  and  Darnley  must  needs  point 
the  moral  at  her  by  the  punctiliousness  of  his  religious 
exercises ;  he  was  in  the  excited,  embittered  state 
when  evil  suggestions  find  ready  response. 

Yet  if  Darnley  had  been  a  little  older,  or  if  he  had  had 
any  instincts  of  natural  affection  or  the  first  elements 
of  manliness,  one  fact  should  have  stood  between  him 
and  the  cruel  treachery  to  which  he  was  to  lend  him- 
self. Mary  was  about  to  become  the  mother  of  his 
child.  She  herself  knew  the  strength  that  the  posses- 
sion of  an  heir  would  be  to  her  political  position,  and 
elated  with  her  far-off  ambitions  and  schemes  she  was 
curiously  blind  to  what  was  going  on  about  her. 

In  her  early  married  days  she  had  sought  to  pacify 
the  Protestants  by  proclamations  disclaiming  any 
intention  of  altering  religion  and  by  sending  Darnley 
to  St  Giles  to  lose  his  temper  over  Knox's  sermon  ; 
but  now  her  foreign  negotiations  could  not  be  kept 
secret,  and  the  Protestants  were  anxious,  suspicious 
and  bitterly  incensed  against  that  "vile  knave  Davie." 
His  fine  clothes,  his  greed,  his  confidential  airs  with 
Mary  infuriated  the  nobles,  though  the  proudest  of 
them  could  cringe  and  flatter  the  intrusive  foreigner  if 
it  served  their  interest.  Even  Murray  sent  him  a 
diamond  and  a  humble  letter  from  Newcastle. 

Besides  her  faithful  and  futile  following,  Setons, 
Livingstons,  Flemings  and  Athol,  Mary  could  count 
on  the  loyalty  of  Huntly  and  Bothwell.  Common 
interests  and  a  common  lawlessness  of  character  had 
drawn  the  two  young  noblemen  together.  It  was 
probably  only  by  hard  pressure  that  Huntly  had 
persuaded  his  grave  young  sister  Lady  Jean  Gordon 
to  marry  his  friend.     She  was  in  love  with  Ogilvy  of 


►J 


< 

z 

o 

o 

'J 


RICCIO'S  MURDER  103 

Boyne,  but  a  girl's  affections  counted  for  little  in  the 
marriages  of  the  time.  Nor  had  her  religious  scruples 
received  greater  consideration.  She  was  a  devout 
Catholic,  and  Bothwell,  that  robust  Protestant,  refused 
to  be  married  without  sermon  and  minister  in  the  Church 
of  the  Canongate.  There  were  other  considerations 
which  must  have  weighed  with  Lady  Jean.  Both- 
well's amours  had  been  notorious.  He  must  have 
been  quite  young  when  he  was  hand-fasted  to  a  lady 
of  the  house  of  Beaton,  a  strange,  powerful  woman 
afterwards  married  to  the  Laird  of  Buccleuch  and 
credited  with  practising  magic.  A  more  shameless 
and  serious  matter  was  Bothwell's  actual  marriage 
with  a  noble  Danish  lady,  Anne  Trondeson.  He 
had  passed  to  Denmark  on  his  way  to  France  to 
solicit  help  for  Mary  of  Guise,  had  there  met  the  lady, 
married  her,  and  departed  with  her  through  Germany. 
There  at  a  seaport  town  he  heartlessly  deserted  her, 
sailing  away  with  all  the  money  she  had  brought  him 
as  dowry.  There  is  a  tradition  that  after  his  banish- 
ment in  1562,  she  came  to  Scotland  to  seek  for  her 
husband,  and  was  received  at  Queen  Mary's  court. 
The  story  at  any  rate  must  have  been  known  to  the 
Queen. 

The  wedding  of  Bothwell  and  Lady  Jean  Gordon 
took  place  on  the  22nd  of  February  (1566).  Mary 
signed  the  contract  and  gave  the  bride  her  wedding- 
gown.  Of  all  the  women  whom  he  loved  and  betrayed 
this  sad  young  wife  seems  to  have  had  the  firmest  hold 
of  Bothwell's  affection  and  respect. 

If  Mary  could  have  brought  herself  to  pardon 
Murray  and  his  associates  she  would  have  cut  the 
ground  from  under  the  feet  of  her  enemies.  One 
of  the  honestest  of  her  friends,  Elisabeth's  servant 


104  MARY  STUART 

Throckmorton,  wrote  frankly  and  kindly  declaring 
that  such  a  step  would  greatly  forward  her  cause 
among  English  Protestants.  But  the  injuries  she  had 
suffered  had  passed  like  poison  into  her  blood.  She 
summoned  for  an  early  date  in  February  a  Parliament 
at  which  the  rebel  lords  should  be  forfeited. 

All  hostile  elements  drew  secretly  together  during 
February.      Devout    Protestants,  keeping   a  national 
fast,  felt  vaguely  that  vengeance  and  deliverance  were 
in  the  air.      By  the   end  of  February  Randolph — at 
Berwick  now  shut  out  of  the  country  by  Mary  on  the 
discovery  of  the  support  he  had  given  her  rebels — 
and    Bedford   knew   that  a   plot  was  being  formed. 
Lethington  wrote  significantly  to  Cecil  of  "  chopping 
at  the  very  root  of  the  mischief."     Morton  had  his 
own  grievance  in    the   expected  transference  of  the 
chancellor's  seals  from  himself  to  Riccio.      Not  one  of 
these  men  but  had  grudges  against  one  another,  not 
one  but  had  received  benefits  from  the  generous  hand 
of  the  Queen,  yet  neither  her  youth  nor  the  child  who 
stirred  under  her  heart  appealed  to  the  pity  or  loyalty 
of  any  of  them.     An  instrument  was  needed  to  cover 
their  guilt  with  a  show  of  legality.     The  boy  Darnley, 
muddled  in  wits,  sore  in  his  feelings  and  open  to  any 
flattery,  was  a  tool  made  to  their  hands.     Riccio  stood 
between   him    and    the    crown    matrimonial ;    he   was 
easily  persuaded  that  Riccio  stood  between  him  and 
his  wife. 

Kinsmen  and  connections  of  his  on  the  Douglas 
side — strangely  reviving  the  old  Douglas  animosity 
to  the  Stuarts — met  in  secret  conclave  round  old 
Ruthven's  sick-bed.  Messengers  passed  to  the 
banished  lords  at  Newcastle,  Murray  (who  had  refused 
his  consent  to  the  Darnley  marriage  because  he  feared 


o 
o 


o 
x 


RICCIO'S  MURDER  105 

that  "  he  would  do  little  to  forward  the  cause  of 
Christ ")  swore  to  support  his  quarrel  against  all  his 
enemies,  without  exception,  and  to  secure  for  him  the 
crown  matrimonial.  Darnley,  the  hope  of  the  Catholics, 
undertook  to  establish  the  Protestant  religion  and 
restore  the  banished  lords. 

On  Thursday,  7th  March,  Mary  rode  to  the  Tol- 
booth  to  open  Parliament.  Darnley  from  shame  or 
sulkiness  or  pure  frivolity  refused  to  accompany  her, 
and  all  that  day  rode  races  on  the  sands  of  Leith. 

On  Saturday  at  seven  in  the  evening  Mary  with 
Riccio  and  her  half-sister  the  Countess  of  Argyll,  her 
brother  Lord  Robert,  and  with  the  equerry  Arthur 
Erskine,  in  waiting,  sat  down  to  supper  in  a  little  slip  of 
a  room,  opening  out  of  Mary's  bedchamber  at  Holy- 
rood.  Behind  the  arras  of  the  bedchamber  a  small 
winding  private  staircase  led  down  to  Darnley's 
apartment.  There  the  conspirators  had  come  to- 
gether. Huntly,  Bothwell,  Athol  and  other  lords  of 
Mary's  following  were  in  their  quarters  in  Holyrood. 

While  the  supper  was  proceeding,  Darnley  appeared 
at  the  entrance  of  the  little  room.  His  appearance 
there  uninvited  aroused  his  wife's  suspicions ;  when 
however  the  white,  gaunt  face  of  Ruthven  in  his  steel 
cap,  and  other  crowding,  menacing  figures  filled  the 
doorway,  Mary  recognised  instantly  and  without  a 
shadow  of  doubt  the  object  of  their  coming.  Her 
first  instinct  was  to  rise  and  thrust  her  womanly 
helplessness,  her  royal  immunity,  between  the  cower- 
ing, blanching  victim  and  his  murderers ;  her  next 
to  turn  with  swift  withering  conviction  on  her  husband, 
11  Is  this  your  work?"  She  had  to  submit  to  be 
held  in  his  hated  control  while  lights  went  out  and 
the   board   toppled   over   and,    in   the   darkness,   the 


106  MARY  STUART 

shrieking  wretch  was  dragged  through  the  neighbour- 
ing room  and  hacked  and  stabbed  to  death. 

From  the  court  below  came  the  clash  of  arms  and 
the  ill-omened  cry  "  A  Douglas !  A  Douglas ! " 
Huntly  and  Bothwell  had  striven  to  reach  the  stairs 
but  were  driven  back  and  took  refuge  in  their  own 
quarters.  Some  explanations,  hurried  and  lame,  were 
offered  them,  they  sullenly  acquiesced,  but  in  the  night 
escaped  by  back  windows  and  fled. 

Coming  out  of  the  merciful  swoon  which,  for  the 
moment,  had  dulled  her  senses,  Mary  first  of  all 
recovered  her  political  prudence,  and  gave  orders  that 
the  Secretary's  desk,  containing  her  cipher  and  foreign 
correspondence,  should  be  brought  to  her  at  once. 
Staggering  and  moribund,  Ruthven  sat  down  in  her 
presence  and  called  for  wine.  With  bitter  scorn  she 
railed  on  him  and  on  the  dull,  brutalised  boy  who 
called  her  wife.  But  for  once  she  was  powerless ; 
keen  wit  and  rarest  fascination  are  as  helpless  as 
simplicity  before  brute  force.  At  one  moment  help 
seemed  near  ;  the  trampling  of  feet  outside  announced 
the  arrival  of  the  city  guard,  and  from  below  the 
window  came  the  Provost's  voice  asking  if  all  were 
well  with  the  Queen.  But  when  she  would  have 
moved  forward  Lindsay  brutally  threatened  to  cut  her 
in  collops  and  throw  her  out,  and  Darnley,  leaning  from 
the  window,  assured  the  townsmen  that  all  was  well. 

They  left  her  at  last ;  their  sworn  followers  guard- 
ing her  room  and  intruding  on  her  privacy.  Some 
accounts  describe  her  as  spending  the  night  alone,  her 
ladies  shut  up  in  another  part  of  the  palace.  Years 
afterwards  Nau  her  secretary,  who  wrote  down  her 
own  recollections  of  these  events,  got  the  impression 
that  old  Lady  Huntly  spent  the  night  with  her. 


RICCIO'S  MURDER  107 

Betrayed,  outraged,  agitated  with  the  pitiful 
agitation  incident  to  her  state,  she  spent  the  night 
pacing  up  and  down,  her  high  spirit  and  subtle  wit 
already  planning  escape  and  revenge.  Her  ladies 
returned  to  her  next  day.  Old  Lady  Huntly  brought 
a  message  from  her  son  and  from  Bothwell  suggesting 
that  she  might  escape  from  a  window  ;  the  old  lady 
actually  brought  a  rope  concealed  in  a  dinner  dish,  to 
further  the  plan.  By  six  in  the  evening  the  Newcastle 
lords  drew  rein  at  the  door.  With  his  usual  prudence 
Murray  had  timed  his  arrival  just  twenty-four  hours 
after  the  crime  was  committed. 

Next  morning  Mary  sent  for  him  and  when  they 
met,  it  seemed  for  a  moment,  as  if  the  two  children 
of  James  V.  might  at  last  have  understood  each  other. 
She  threw  herself  into  his  arms  crying,  "  If  you  had 
been  here,  you  would  not  have  let  them  do  it,"  and 
the  tears  rose  in  the  eyes  of  Murray.  But  both 
were  too  deeply  committed  to  their  former  selves,  and 
by  the  afternoon  Mary  silently  recognised  how  com- 
pletely her  brother  had  thrown  in  his  lot  with  the 
other  side. 

There  was  another  way  of  escape  and  an  easier. 
Could  she  but  disguise  her  repugnance  to  her  husband, 
she  knew  the  ascendency  she  could  at  any  moment  gain 
over  him.  She  opened  his  eyes  relentlessly  to  the  danger 
he  was  in,  among  traitors  and  murderers  who  had  used 
him  for  their  own  ends.  When  terror  had  delivered 
him  into  her  hands,  she  steadily  set  herself  to  cajole 
and  flatter  him.  He  must  have  the  guard  removed 
that  night  and  join  her  in  her  flight  to  Dunbar.  An 
alarm  of  illness,  the  midwife's  hurried  advent,  forced 
the  lords — sceptical  and  reluctant  as  they  were — to 
accede  to  the  request   to  have  the  guards  removed. 


108  MARY  STUART 

At  midnight  Mary  and  Darnley  groped  their  way 
through  a  ruinous  gap  in  the  palace  wall  and  stumbled 
through  the  charnel  house  where  Riccio's  grave  was 
still  raw  and  new.  Was  it  Darnley  himself  or  the 
female  attendant  who  narrated  to  Lennox  that  Mary  had 
paused  above  it  and  sworn  that  "  a  fatter  than  Riccio 
should  lie  as  low  ere  another  year  was  out  ?  "  Darnley 
is  said  to  have  muttered  some  words  of  vague  remorse. 

Outside  the  Abbey  walls,  in  the  frosty  air,  stood 
the  horses ;  the  faithful  equerry,  Arthur  Erskine,  was 
in  charge.  The  Laird  of  Traquair,  Darnley's  servant 
Antony  Standen,  and  the  waiting  woman  made  up 
the  little  company. 

It  seemed  barely  possible  that  the  escape  of  so 
many  could  be  unobserved.  Darnley  looked  round 
constantly  in  abject  terror.  Mary  rode  on  a  pillion 
behind  Erskine  who  moderated  his  pace  to  suit  her 
weakness,  so  fearful  was  she  of  imperilling  the  life 
of  her  child.  Hereupon  the  king  put  himself  into  a 
fury  :  "  Come  on,"  he  said,  "  in  God's  name  come  on. 
If  this  baby  dies  we  can  have  more."  The  words 
were  to  rankle  in  Mary's  memory  all  her  life.  At  the 
moment  they  excited  bitter  scorn.  "  She  bade  him 
push  on  and  take  care  of  himself.  This  he  did  very 
thoughtlessly."  Such  was  his  panic  that  he  hardly 
noticed  the  contempt  of  men's  faces  nor  the  plainness 
of  their  reproaches  when  finally  the  party  came  up 
with  Both  well  and  Huntly  and  their  following.  At 
Dunbar  Mary  found  chill,  unfurnished  rooms ;  the 
only  food  forthcoming  consisted  of  eggs,  which  she  pre- 
pared with  her  own  hand.  No  practical  difficulty,  small 
or  great,  ever  found  her  without  immediate  resource. 


CHAPTER  X 

JEDBURGH 
March  1566 — November  1566 

ON  Monday,  nth  March,  we  have  seen  Mary  a 
prisoner  in  her  own  palace,  in  fear  of  her  life ; 
physically  in  anxious  plight;  her  friends  far-off;  her 
enemies  triumphant  and  insolent ;  all  her  schemes 
apparently  overthrown.  A  week  later,  she  rode  in 
triumph  up  the  High  Street  of  Edinburgh.  Her 
courage  and  promptitude  had  simply  reversed  the 
position.  In  the  days  that  followed  her  flight  to 
Dunbar,  Glencairn  and  Rothes  had  submitted  and 
been  pardoned.  An  army  under  Both  well  and  Huntly 
had  rallied  round  her.  The  conspirators,  seeing  that 
the  game  was  up,  fled  to  England.  They  had  at  least 
the  generosity  to  bid  Murray  stay  and  make  his  own 
peace  regardless  of  them.  Sir  James  Melville  met 
Mary  at  Haddington  with  a  submissive  letter  from 
her  brother.  So  little  perception  had  Darnley  of 
the  position  he  occupied  in  men's  opinion  that  he 
asked  Melville  if  Murray  had  sent  no  message  for  him. 
Rather  than  occupy  the  haunted  rooms  at  Holy  rood 
Mary  lived  in  a  house  in  the  High  Street  till  the  Castle 
could  be  prepared  for  her  use.  Her  vengeance  could 
only  reach  some  minor  actors  in  the  crime,  betrayed 
by  Darnley.  He  himself  appeared  before  the  Privy 
Council  to  declare  his  innocence  of  all  conspiracy. 
Mary  might  pretend  to   shut  her  eyes  to  what  her 


109 


110  MARY  STUART 

quick  wits  had  discovered  in  the  first  moment  of  the 
crime.  But  those  whose  friends  had  been  betrayed 
had  no  interest  to  serve  in  leaving  a  rag  to  cover  the 
shame  of  the  king.  Relentlessly  they  laid  before 
Mary's  eyes  the  bond  by  which  her  husband  had  tried 
to  secure  her  crown  for  himself  at  the  price  of  her 
danger  and  dishonour. 

For  this  wretched  boy  of  twenty  there  was  no 
place  left  for  repentance.  Mary  was  at  her  old  royal 
task  of  pardoning  and  reconciling ;  even  Bothwell  and 
Murray  consented  to  a  pretence  of  reconciliation.  Only 
for  Darnley  was  neither  forgiveness  nor  alliance.  He 
lived  in  a  state  of  piteous  isolation.  Even  his  father, 
banished  to  his  own  lands  in  the  west,  refused  to  for- 
give his  son  for  leaving  him  behind  in  Holyrood  on  the 
night  of  the  flight.  So  abject  was  Darnley,  that  to  avoid 
the  presence  of  the  new  French  ambassador,  he  feigned 
to  be  ill.  Nor  did  the  pretence  avail ;  the  ambassador 
visited  him  in  company  of  the  Queen  and  Privy 
Council  and  reproached  him  severely  for  his  conduct. 

Only  once  do  we  catch  a  momentary  softening  of 
Mary's  feelings  towards  her  husband.  To  the  women 
of  that  day  the  shadow  of  death  lay  always  athwart 
the  hour  of  birth.  Even  in  early  prosperous  days  Mary 
had  spoken  to  Throckmorton  as  if  the  thought  of  death 
were  neither  strange  nor  unwelcome  to  her.  Facing 
the  gravity  of  the  issue,  she  made  her  will  in  the  month 
of  May.  No  kinsman,  no  servant,  no  friend  of  youth 
was  forgotten.  She  left  many  valuables  to  the  king, 
among  others  "  the  ring  wherewith  he  married  me." 

If  the  fear  of  death  weighed  lightly  with  this  brave 
woman  there  were  other  dangers  which  she  foresaw 
and  provided  against.  What  if  Murray  should  seize 
the  hour  of  her  helplessness  to  contrive  the  return  of 


JEDBURGH  111 

Morton  and  his  crew,  or  even  to  invite  an  invading 
English  army  ?  Bothwell  and  his  friends  advised  her 
to  put  her  half-brother  in  ward.  She  did  more  wisely. 
Bothwell,  the  only  nobleman  free  from  all  suspicion 
of  trafficking  with  England,  was  set  to  guard  the 
Border.  Murray  and  Argyle  with  their  wives  she 
invited  to  be  with  her  in  the  castle  of  Edinburgh 
where  the  faithful  Lord  Erskine  commanded  the 
guns. 

Before  noon  on  the  19th  of  June  Mary  Beaton — 
married  now  to  Lady  Bothwell's  old  lover  Ogilvy  of 
Boyne — sped  James  Melville  on  his  way  to  London 
with  the  news  of  the  birth  of  a  man-child,  an  heir  born 
to  Mary  and  Elisabeth  alike.  It  was  a  cry  from  the 
depths  of  nature,  that  bitter  remark  of  Elisabeth's. 
"  The  Queen  of  Scots  hath  a  fair  son  and  I  am  a 
barren  stock."  A  son,  one  who  united  the  claims  of 
both  sides  of  the  house,  was  politically  an  important 
additional  strength  to  Mary ;  otherwise  the  baby 
afforded  her  little  pleasure.  "He  is  only  too  much 
your  son,"  she  had  said  to  Darnley  when  he  was 
brought  in  to  see  and  acknowledge  his  child,  referring 
probably  to  some  physical  defect  in  the  boy. 

Mary  made  an  indifferent  recovery,  was  restless 
and  depressed,  and  the  dislike  she  had  of  Darnley 
became  an  uncontrollable  repugnance,  a  matter  of 
nerves  and  instincts.  She  longed  for  change  and  ex- 
citement and  to  get  away  from  his  presence.  Bothwell 
was  High  Admiral  and  he  and  his  sailors  carried  her 
up  the  Forth  on  one  of  his  ships  to  Alloa  where  she 
was  to  be  the  guest  of  the  Earl  of  Mar.  Murray 
accompanied  her  and  his  presence  should  be  guarantee 
enough  of  the  propriety  of  the  expedition,  but  Buchanan, 
writing  under   Murray's   inspiration,  makes  it  one  of 


112  MARY  STUART 

the  licentious  acts  of  which  he  accuses  the  Queen  and 
Bothwell.  Bedford,  writing  at  this  time  but  from  the 
distance  of  Berwick,  reported  that  Bothwell  ruled  all 
at  court  and  was  hated  much  as  Riccio  had  been. 
He  reported  also  that  the  Queen  would  suffer  no 
one  to  be  friends  with  her  husband,  even  quarrelling 
with  her  complacent  courtier  Sir  James  Melville  for 
complimenting  the  king  with  the  gift  of  a  spaniel. 
Darnley  visited  his  wife  at  Alloa,  but  received  so  iron 
a  welcome  that  he  stayed  but  one  day.  More  cordial 
was  the  welcome  accorded  to  Lethington  when  he  was 
admitted  to  Mary's  presence.  By  September  he  had 
secured  something  like  his  old  standing,  and  that 
autumn  married  his  faithful  Fleming. 

She  was  the  third  Mary  whom  marriage  had  re- 
moved from  her  mistress'  side.  Now  if  ever  the  Queen 
required  the  companionship  of  prudent  and  affectionate 
ladies.  Sick  in  body,  her  affections  deadened  by  the 
disillusionment  of  her  disastrous  marriage,  she  was 
just  in  the  condition  to  fall  a  prey  to  any  excitement 
or  passion.  And  she  fell  under  evil  influences.  Of 
Mary  Seton — evidently  the  least  influential  of  the 
four — we  hear  nothing  at  this  time,  but  a  certain 
elderly  woman,  a  Mrs  Forbes  of  Reres,  seems  to  have 
been  in  constant  attendance  on  the  Queen.  A  sister 
of  the  uncanny  Lady  of  Buccleuch,  she  herself  had  been 
light  in  her  youth  and  gossip  had  even  connected  her 
name  with  her  sister's  lover,  Lord  Bothwell.  Though 
now  grown  elderly  and  stout  she  had  gained  neither  in 
gravity  nor  propriety.  The  gallantries  of  which  she 
could  no  longer  be  the  object  were  still  her  absorbing 
concern  in  life.  The  old  tie  with  Bothwell  made  her  the 
active,  subservient  agent  of  his  interests.  That  Mary 
should  have  tolerated  and  even  sought  the  familiarity 


JEDBURGH  113 

of  such  a  woman  indicates  the  evil  excitement  that  was 
secretly  taking  hold  on  her. 

Lady  Reres  was  in  attendance  on  the  Queen  when, 
in  September,  Mary  lodged  for  some  days  in  a  house 
in  the  Canongate,  to  go  into  the  business  of  her 
revenues.  A  garden  sloped  from  the  back  of  this 
house  and  adjoining  it  was  the  garden  belonging  to 
one  Mr  David  Chalmers.  He  was  a  creature  of 
Bothwell's  and  to  his  house  the  earl  was  accustomed 
to  resort.  On  this  juxtaposition  Buchanan  founds  the 
grossest  and  least  credible  of  his  scandalous  stories. 
Of  contemporary  evidence  of  these  there  is  no  trace  ; 
indeed  du  Croc  the  French  ambassador  wrote  at  this 
time  that  he  had  never  seen  Mary  more  loved, 
esteemed  and  honoured  by  her  people.  And  at  the 
very  time  when  the  scandals,  of  which  he  recounts 
every  particular,  were  supposed  to  be  taking  place, 
Master  George  Buchanan  was  shut  up  polishing  Latin 
verses  in  praise  of  the  Queen's  chastity  and  wisdom, 
for  the  approaching  christening  festivity. 

Darnley's  impenetrable  stupidity  prevented  his  see- 
ing that  the  only  possible  policy  for  him  was  to  keep 
out  of  everyone's  way.  He  did  the  opposite  of  this. 
He  would  force  some  manifestation  of  feeling  from  his 
wife,  some  return  of  fondness,  some  fear,  even  some  ex- 
pression of  irritation.  He  had  dared  to  write  to  the 
Catholic  princes  complaining  of  Mary's  lukewarmness 
in  religion,  but  his  character  and  position  were  clearly 
understood  in  all  European  courts.  Now  he  suddenly 
appeared  in  Edinburgh  with  a  wild  scheme  of  sailing 
off  in  a  ship  to  France  or  Flanders,  or  on  a  piratical 
raid  on  the  Scilly  Islands,  anything  to  force  Mary 
into  some  expression  of  feeling  towards  him. 

She  had  in  perfection  the  feminine  art  of  putting 

H 


114  MARY  STUART 

her  adversary  in  the  wrong.  She  summoned  the 
Privy  Council,  invited  the  presence  of  the  French 
ambassador,  and,  standing  before  them  all,  dangerous 
in  her  beauty  and  dignified  meekness,  took  the  sulky 
boy  by  the  hand  and  asked  him  to  state  clearly  and 
publicly  if  she  had  done  him  any  wrong.  With  those 
strange  level  eyes  on  him  and  hostile  faces  all  around, 
Darnley  lost  what  presence  of  mind  he  might  have 
had.  After  a  muttered  excuse  he  took  his  leave  of 
her  with  "  Adieu  Madame,  you  shall  not  see  my  face 
for  a  long  space." 

His  cowardice  irritated  her  as  much  as  his  perfidy. 
"  She  was  one  who  loved  to  hear  of  brave  deeds  even 
in  an  enemy."  It  was  at  Borthwick  on  her  way  to 
Jedburgh  to  hold  an  assize,  that  she  learned  that  in 
an  affray  with  a  Border  robber,  Bothwell  had  received 
a  severe  sword  wound  and  had  barely  escaped  with 
his  life.  In  her  heart  she  made  bitter  comparisons 
between  the  strong  man  wounded  in  her  service  and 
the  frivolous  boy  who  was  merely  a  torment  and 
mortification  to  her.  Some  months  later  looking  at 
his  fair  face  flushed  with  wine  or  temper  she  taunted 
him,  saying  that  it  would  "  do  him  good  to  be  a  little 
daggered  like  my  Lord  of  Bothwell." 

Murray  was  with  his  sister  at  Jedburgh.  Murray 
knew  that  for  a  whole  week  she  was  occupied  in 
holding  Justice  Courts  before  she  rode  in  his  com- 
pany to  visit  Bothwell  at  Hermitage  ;  but  Murray 
suffered  Buchanan  to  make  wild  assertions  about  this 
ride  in  his  "  Detectio."  In  the  short  October  day  Mary 
and  her  brother  and  her  suite  rode  to  Hermitage  and 
back  over  rough  pathless  moors.  The  next  day  Mary 
fell  ill  with  a  sudden  mysterious  attack  in  which  she 
lay  for  some  hours  like  one  dead.     In  the  hall  and 


JEDBURGH  115 

galleries  of  that  high  roofed  house  in  Jedburgh  men 
met  with  anxious  brows.  There  were  whispered 
counsels,  mutual  suspicions,  sudden  alliances,  such  as 
attend  the  mortal  sickness  of  kings.  But  to  the 
biographer  of  Mary  these  days  when  her  life  hung  in 
the  balance,  are  like  a  sudden  opening  between 
thunderclouds  through  which  the  blue,  authentic 
Heaven  is  visible.  Perplexed,  driven  by  earthly 
passions,  fiercely  resentful  of  wrongs  as  she  was,  there 
was  in  Mary,  as  there  was  in  her  mother  and  in  her 
uncle,  Duke  Francis,  an  inalienable  instinct  for  the 
things  of  the  spirit.  When  death  approached  any  of 
these  three  generous  and  living  souls,  the  passions, 
ambitions,  nay,  the  very  sins  which  had  filled  their 
days  seemed  to  slip  off  them  like  a  garment,  and  they 
faced  death  with  head  erect  and  steady  eyes  as  one 
with  whom  they  had  long  been  reconciled. 

The  age  was  different  from  our  own.  Men  spent 
their  lives  among  lusts  and  sufferings  and  deeds  of 
violence  and  of  heroism,  and  beyond  such  life  they 
saw  clearly  two  alternatives;  endless  torment  or  a 
rapture  of  peace  and  glory.  Some  sudden,  miraculous 
interposition  of  mercy,  some  corresponding  movement 
of  appropriating  faith  were  a  necessity  postulated  by 
human  nature,  a  necessity  met  by  Catholicism  and 
Protestantism  alike.  For  the  faithful  believer  the 
Church  had  strong  arms  of  comfort  in  the  sacraments 
and  in  assurances  of  participation  in  a  kingdom  of 
which  she  held  the  keys.  For  this  Protestantism, 
stooping  to  human  weakness,  had  substituted  a 
miraculous  change  in  the  sinner's  own  apprehension, 
a  conviction  that  by  no  sin  of  his  own  could  he  lose 
his  place  among  the  elect,  if  elect  he  were.  Ruthven, 
dying   a    few   months   after    the    murder   of    Riccio, 


116  MARY  STUART 

had  a  comfortable  vision  of  angels   in   the  hour  of 
death. 

Mary,  believing  herself  to  be  in  extremis  in 
Jedburgh,  declared  that  she  lightlied  the  honours 
and  triumphs  in  which  she  had  lived,  and  cast  herself 
at  the  feet  of  her  Creator  ready  to  embrace  His  will. 
She  reminded  her  noblemen  that  she  had  never 
pressed  them  in  their  consciences,  and  she  pleaded 
for  those  of  the  old  Faith  Catholic,  "and  if  ye  knew 
what  it  were  of  a  person  that  is  in  extremity  as  I 
am,  and  that  it  behoved  him  to  think  that  he  maun 
render  count  of  his  faults  as  I  do,  ye  would  never 
press  them."  Then  turning  to  her  half-brother  she 
added  impressively,  "  I  pray  you  brother,  Earl  of 
Murray,  that  you  trouble  none."  Her  enemies  and 
those  who  had  repaid  her  kindness  with  ingratitude 
she  left  to  the  judgment  of  God. 

There  was  to  be  no  such  swift  and  complete 
solution  of  the  difficulties  that  beset  Mary's  path, 
her  strong  vitality  reasserted  itself  and  she  recovered 
quickly.  Darnley  had  been  duly  informed  of  his 
wife's  illness  and  danger,  but  he  delayed  so  long  that 
his  tardy  appearance  seemed  almost  an  affront  and 
only  added  to  Mary's  irritation  against  him.  In 
marked  contrast  was  the  welcome  accorded  to 
•  Both  well,  who  had  caused  himself  to  be  carried  to 
Jedburgh  in  a  litter  as  soon  as  his  state  allowed  him 
to  be  moved.  By  the  middle  of  November  Mary 
had  returned  to  Edinburgh  after  visiting  the  eastern 
border,  but  still  avoiding  Holyrood  she  was  staying  at 
Craigmillar,  a  castle  within  a  few  miles  of  the  town. 
With  returning  health  the  nature  of  her  position 
became  only  more  galling.  If  no  way  were  found  to 
free  her  from  her  husband,  she  declared  at  times  that 


5 

3 


O 


JEDBURGH  117 

she  would  lay  hands  on  herself.  Others  than  Mary  had 
come  to  look  on  the  removal  of  Darnley  as  a  necessity. 
Some  sort  of  bond  had  been  signed  against  him  in 
the  autumn  of  this  year.  Murray  and  Lethington 
were  pledged  to  work  for  the  restoration  of  Morton 
and  his  friends ;  they  were  not  the  men  to  let  an 
obstacle  like  Darnley  stick  in  their  path.  Bothwell, 
too,  had  his  own  ends  to  serve  in  his  removal. 

The  only  account  we  have  of  the  actual  com- 
pact made  at  Craigmillar  is  from  the  two  members, 
least  vitally  interested,  Argyll  and  Huntly.  Their 
evidence  is  not  beyond  suspicion  of  prejudice  but  it 
is  all  we  have  to  go  on.  According  to  their  narrative 
Lethington  was  the  chief  contriver  of  the  scheme,  he 
and  Murray  proposed  it  to  Huntly  and  Argyll  and 
then  brought  Bothwell  into  it.  There  was  no  need 
that  Mary  should  be  categorically  informed  of  any 
plot  or  bond,  nor  be  required  to  give  formal  consent 
to  what  they  had  in  hand.  She  demurred  at  the 
project  for  a  divorce,  thinking  it  would  injure  the 
position  of  her  son.  Lethington,  reassuring  her, 
hinted  at  another  more  sinister  means  of  meeting  the 
difficulty.  "  Madam  soucy  ye  not ;  we  are  here  of 
the  principal  of  your  grace's  nobility  and  Council 
that  shall  find  the  moyen  that  your  Majesty  shall 
be  quit  of  him  without  prejudice  to  your  son  ;  and 
albeit  my  Lord  of  Murray  here  present  be  little  less 
scrupulous  for  a  Protestant  than  your  grace  is  for 
ane  Papist,  I  am  assured  he  will  look  through  his 
fingers  thereto  and  will  behold  our  doings  and  say 
nothing  thereto."  Historians  may  thank  Lethington 
for  a  phrase  that  touches  off  the  character  of  Murray 
as  no  analysis  could  do.  A  bond  was  signed  and 
probably   all    the    signatories    had   copies.     Bothwell 


118  MARY  STUART 

certainly  had  in  his  possession  a  bond  by  which 
Huntly,  Argyll,  Lethington,  and  Bothwell  himself 
undertook  to  support  one  another  in  "the  putting 
forth  by  one  way  or  other"  of  the  "young  fool  and 
proud  tyrant,"  the  king.  A  few  months  later  he 
showed  this  document  to  one  of  his  followers, 
Hepburn  of  Bowton,  signed  with  the  four  names,  with 
the  addition  of  Sir  James  Balfour's ;  Lethington's 
signature  is  at  the  bottom  with  a  long  space  between 
his  name  and  the  next  above ;  a  space  to  be  filled 
with  nobler  signatures  that  were  never  obtained. 


CHAPTER  XI 

KIRK    O'    FIELD 
December  1566 — February  1567 

FOR  a  time  at  least  Mary  could  subordinate  to  her 
delight  in  pomp  and  ceremonial  both  her  restless 
unhappiness  and  those  stirrings  of  passion  which  in 
turn  offered  wild  hopes  of  deliverance  and  threatened 
more  complicated  distress.  The  baptism  of  her  son 
at  Stirling  was  in  appearance  the  triumphant  moment 
of  her  life  (December  17). 

Such  power  and  security  had  she  acquired  in  her 
Protestant  kingdom  that  no  remonstrance  was  made 
against  her  determination  to  have  the  full  Catholic 
ceremonial  performed  by  Archbishop  Hamilton.  She 
had  borne  part  in  costlier  pageants,  but  none  of  such 
significance  as  this  one  when  the  sovereigns  of  France 
and  England  stood  sponsor  at  a  Catholic  font  for  the 
little  heir  of  two  Protestant  kingdoms.  In  France 
she  had  merely  been  a  Queen  Consort ;  here  she  and 
she  only  was  the  central  figure.  That  was  the  strange 
and  ill-omened  feature  of  the  feast.  The  father  of 
the  little  prince  was  indeed  in  the  castle  at  Stirling 
but  rigidly  secluded,  sulky,  miserable,  unable  to 
appear  yet  refusing  to  go  away.  He  was  unwilling 
to  meet  the  English  ambassador,  knowing  that 
Bedford  would  certainly  have  received  orders  to 
ignore  his  claim  to  be  addressed  as  king.  If  he  were 
refused  all  part  in  the  ceremonial  he  would  at  least 

stay  to  throw  a  shadow  on  his  wife's  triumph. 

ii9 


120  MARY  STUART 

As  if  to  mark  his  insignificance  the  suit  of  cloth  of 
gold  ordered  for  him  was  delayed  by  the  tailor,  while 
Bothwell  pranked  it  in  blue  and  Murray  and  Lethington 
wore  red  and  green  suits  all  of  the  Queen's  ordering 
and  giving.  Special  honour  was  paid  to  Bedford  the 
English  envoy,  but  he  with  those  other  stout  Protest- 
ants, Murray  and  Bothwell  and  the  Catholic  Huntly, 
stood  outside  the  chapel  door  while  the  rest  of  the 
company  attended  the  Catholic  order  of  baptism. 
Mary  sat  between  the  ambassadors  of  France  and 
England  at  the  banquet,  serene,  gracious,  triumphant, 
equally  ignoring  the  miserable  husband  eating  his 
angry  heart  out  in  solitude,  and  the  strong  masterful 
man — courteous  and  subservient  for  the  moment  in 
his  place  in  that  great  company — who  was  secretly 
acquiring  such  hold  on  her  affections  and  her  fears. 
When  the  lights  were  out  and  the  compliments 
and  gracious  speeches  had  served  their  turn,  she 
had  fits  of  sadness ;  she  would  sigh  at  times  and 
complain  of  the  old  pain  in  her  side,  and  once  du 
Croc  the  French  ambassador  surprised  her  weeping 
bitterly. 

The  air  was  heavy  with  rumours.  When  great 
crimes  are  on  hand  the  secret  must  needs  pass 
through  many  lower  agents ;  men  with  consciences 
half  affrighted  hover  round  the  subject  in  their 
common  talk ;  hints  and  warnings  crop  up  in  un- 
expected places  urging  danger  on  dulled  ears.  Gossip 
had  travelled  to  Paris  and  home  again  of  a  design  of 
Darnley  and  his  father  to  seize  the  child  and  set  up 
a  regency.  On  the  other  hand  rumours  of  a  design 
against  Darnley  had  been  spread  in  Glasgow  the 
centre  of  the  Lennox  country.  While  the  king  was 
still   at    Stirling   his    father   sent   to    warn    him    that 


KIRK  O'  FIELD  121 

he  was  aimed  at  by  certain  agreements  dating  from 
Craigmillar. 

The  vague  fear  in  which  Darnley  habitually  lived 
took  definite  form  when  he  learned  that  Mary  had 
signed  a  pardon  restoring  the  Riccio  murderers.  On 
that  same  day  (Dec.  24)  he  rode  from  Stirling,  falling 
sick  with  deadly  sickness  before  he  reached  his 
father's  house  in  Glasgow.  Poison  was  of  course 
suspected  but  the  illness  proved  to  be  a  virulent 
attack  of  smallpox. 

A  more  ominous  circumstance  than  the  pardon  of 
Morton,  to  us  who  are  wise  after  the  event,  was  the 
effort  Mary  made  to  restore  his  consistorial  jurisdic- 
tion to  Archbishop  Hamilton.  Such  consistorial 
jurisdiction  gave  all  decisions  in  cases  of  marriage 
and  divorce  into  the  hands  of  a  bishop  in  his  own 
diocese.  Now  the  archbishop's  diocese  included  the 
Lothians,  and  Bothwell's  castle  of  Hailes  was  in  East 
Lothian. 

There  was  doom  and  dreadful  resolutions  in  the 
air :  it  was  time  for  Murray  to  remove  himself  out 
of  sight  and  knowledge  of  what  might  be  going  on. 
He  retired  to  St  Andrews  where  he  entertained  the 
Earl  of  Bedford.  Mary's  restlessness  was  growing 
on  her.  We  have  no  need  to  go  to  Buchanan's  ugly 
calumnies  to  feel  how  evil  a  spell  had  fallen  on  this 
bright  and  beautiful  woman.  In  these  weeks  of  mid- 
winter she  visited  at  the  castles  of  several  of  her 
nobles,  and  everywhere  and  daily  more  intimately 
the  Earl  of  Bothwell  appeared  at  her  side. 

At  last,  but  not  till  January  14th,  Mary  wrote  to 
her  husband  offering  to  come  and  see  him.  H  is  jealousy 
broke  out  in  coarse  insult.  Messages,  the  most  intimate 
and  important,    were   often   confided   verbally   to  the 


122  MARY  STUART 

messenger  in  those  days  when  writing  was  a  tedious 
art  to  many.  With  what  countenance  could  the 
Queen  listen  to  some  malapert  groom  reporting  that 
her  husband  wished  that  Glasgow  might  be  Hermitage 
and  he  the  Earl  of  Bothwell  as  he  lay  there,  and  then 
he  doubted  not  that  she  would  be  quickly  with  him 
undesired  ?  Words  sting  only  when  love  is  still 
quick  :  nothing  done  or  said  by  her  husband  could  do 
more  than  deepen  Mary's  impatient  loathing.  He 
had  some  instinct  of  his  own  helplessness ;  as  she 
approached,  his  mood  of  insolent  petulance  changed 
into  abject  submission  and  longing  for  reconciliation. 

On  January  the  20th  she  rode  out  of  Edinburgh, 
Bothwell  accompanying  her  half-way  to  Lord  Living- 
ston's house,  where  she  spent  the  night.  Paris, 
Bothwell's  confidential  valet,  had  passed  from  his 
service  into  the  Queen's ;  Joseph  Riccio  was  her 
secretary  and  the  ominous  Lady  Reres  was  her  lady 
in  waiting.  Not  without  reason  had  Darnley  inquired 
anxiously  of  her  avant-coureur  of  whom  her  household 
was  made  up.  Outside  Glasgow  she  was  met  by 
various  gentlemen.  Among  them  was  a  servant  of 
her  husband's,  Crawford  of  Jordanhill.  He  excused 
his  master,  old  Lennox,  that  he  had  not  come  to 
meet  her,  saying  that  for  various  causes  he  was  afraid 
to  do  so.  "  Against  fear,"  Mary  told  him  coldly, 
"  there  is  no  medicine." 

Darnley  was  still  lying  sick  in  his  father's  house. 
He  had  been  annoyed  that  lodgings  had  been  pro- 
vided for  her  elsewhere.  She  went  to  see  him  that 
evening  before  supper.  Weak,  excited,  like  a  sick 
child,  he  wished  her  to  stay  longer,  to  give  him  his 
food,  to  sit  up  with  him  at  night ;  he  was  querulous 
that    she    continued    pensive.       She    could    stand    no 


KIRK  O'  FIELD  123 

more  than  two  hours  at  a  time ;  the  windows  were 
closed,  the  air  heavy  and  infected.  In  the  far  corner 
of  the  bed — his  poor  disfigured  face  perhaps  already- 
covered  with  his  taffeta  mask — lay  the  sick  man  tear- 
fully affectionate,  eagerly  deprecating,  at  once  fearful 
of  the  beautiful,  watchful  woman  sitting  at  the  further 
corner  of  his  bed  and  yet  clinging  to  her  as  to  his 
one  hope  of  safety.  What  was  it,  she  asked,  that  he 
complained  of  in  his  letters.  With  a  wail  he  poured 
out  his  boyish  repentance  and  excuses  always  with 
the  piteous  overword  "  I  am  young." 

So  little,  in  his  blind  self-pity,  did  he  understand 
the  bitterly  alienated  woman  by  his  side  that  he 
pleaded  hard  that  all  might  be  as  it  had  been  before, 
that  they  might  be  as  husband  and  wife  together. 
She  made  some  sort  of  promise  for  the  future,  but 
vaguely  and  coldly.  In  the  meantime  he  must  be 
completely  cured  of  his  illness ;  she  had  brought  a 
horse-litter,  he  must  accompany  her  to  Craigmillar 
and  follow  a  course  of  treatment.  Then  she  probed 
him  on  points  difficult  to  evade  or  to  answer,  asking 
what  rumours  had  reached  him  of  plots  formed  against 
him  at  Craigmillar.  He  assured  her  that  he  was 
convinced  that  she  who  was  his  own  flesh  would  do 
him  no  hurt.  She  was  on  dangerous  ground  when 
she  asked  his  opinion  of  Lady  Reres.  He  liked  not 
her  sort,  he  said,  he  prayed  that  she  would  always 
serve  the  Queen  to  her  honour. 

It  was  probably  after  Mary  had  left  him  on  the 
second  night  that,  nervous  and  restless,  he  called 
Crawford  to  him  and  related  in  full  all  his  conversation 
with  his  wife.  Crawford  was  suspicious  of  the  horse- 
litter,  it  suggested  the  position  of  a  prisoner.  Nor 
had  Craigmillar  a  reassuring  sound.     The  sick  man 


124  MARY  STUART 

assented,  but  added  that  he  would  put  himself  into  her 
hands  though  she  should  cut  his  throat  and  besought 
God  to  be  a  judge  unto  them  both.  If  Mary  had  come 
to  her  husband's  sick  bed  to  lure  him  to  his  death,  it  is 
clear  from  Darnley's  words  that  she  had  used  no 
flattering  promises  nor  feminine  guile.  She  had 
established  her  ascendency  over  him  by  a  terrible 
fascination  of  fear.  Her  loathing  for  her  husband  as 
well  as  the  nobler  instincts  of  her  nature  made  all 
blandishments  hateful  to  her  where  he  was  concerned. 

Meanwhile  Bothwell,  in  consultation  with  Lethington 
and  Sir  James  Balfour,  had  found  Craigmillar  incon- 
venient for  the  king's  lodging. 

On  the  south  side  of  Edinburgh  where  the  ground 
sloped  up  steeply  from  the  valley  of  the  Cowgate,  lay 
the  ruinous  Collegiate  Church  of  St  Mary  in  the  Fields. 
It  lay  just  outside  the  city  walls,  a  solitary  place 
among  its  own  fields  and  gardens.  The  Church  was 
roofless,  the  houses  built  on  the  four  sides  of  a  quad- 
rangle were  deserted  and,  for  the  most  part,  ruinous ; 
at  their  best  they  had  been  small,  mean  dwellings. 
On  the  north  side  of  the  square  was  a  little  two 
storeyed  house  abutting  on  the  city  wall.  Small  and 
inconvenient  as  it  was,  it  was  sufficiently  in  repair  to 
permit  of  being  hastily  put  in  order  for  the  king's 
accommodation.  It  belonged  to  Sir  James  Balfour's 
brother  and  could  be  hired  without  fuss  or  question. 

The  vaults  consisted  of  a  low  cellar  with  a 
door  opening  through  the  city  wall.  Above  this  was 
the  ground  floor.  It  contained  a  long  anteroom  or 
hall  with  an  outer  door  into  the  quadrangle,  and  a 
room  with  a  second  door  opening  into  the  garden. 
This  room  was  prepared  for  the  Queen  and  she  seems 
to  have  occupied  it  for  several  nights.     A  small  turn- 


KIRK  O'  FIELD  125 

pike  stair  led  to  the  upper  storey  consisting  of  the 
room  prepared  for  the  king  and  two  small  cabinets 
occupied  by  his  servants. 

Three  doors  entering  from  different  quarters  made 
the  little  house  singularly  accessible.  The  quality  of 
the  neighbourhood  may  be  guessed  from  the  fact  that 
the  lane  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  on  which 
Darnley's  window  looked  out,  was  called  "  The 
Thieves'  Row."  Only  one  other  house  stood  near — 
also  outside  the  walls — Hamilton  House  which  was 
occupied  at  this  time  by  the  hereditary  enemies  of 
the  Lennoxes,  Archbishop  Hamilton  and  his  nephew 
Lord  Claude.  To  this  lonely  and  deserted  dwelling 
Mary  brought  her  husband  at  the  end  of  January. 

The  inside  of  the  house  had  indeed  been  sump- 
tuously furnished  with  the  Huntly  tapestries  from 
Strathbogie,  Turkey  carpets  and  beds  of  state.  There 
was  a  constant  crowd  of  people  filling  the  tiny  house. 
Darnley  had  only  a  few  chamber  boys  of  his  own, 
young  and  helpless,  but  the  servants  of  Mary  and  of 
Both  well  went  in  and  out  at  their  pleasure.  It  is 
startling,  if  true,  that  French  Paris,  BothwelPs  confiden- 
tial valet,  now  in  Mary's  service,  talked  confidentially 
to  her  while  she  washed  her  hands  in  her  low  bedroom. 
It  was  he  who  was  sent  by  Margaret  Carwood  the 
queen's  waiting-woman  to  fetch  away  the  furred 
coverlet  from  her  bed  on  Friday  the  7th  February. 

During  Mary's  absence  in  Glasgow  Bothwell  had 
tried  to  strengthen  the  plot  by  the  adherence  of  Morton. 
Set  as  he  was  on  revenging  himself  on  Darnley  for 
his  treacherous  desertion,  Morton  was  too  selfishly 
prudent  to  risk  again  the  life  and  liberty  he  had  so 
recently  hazarded.  Without  a  written  authorisation 
from  the  Queen  he  would  take  no  active  part.     He 


126  MARY  STUART 

would  look  on  grimly  satisfied,  and  could  be  trusted  to 
convey  no  whisper  of  warning  to  his  young  kinsman. 

Wherever  the  question  of  Mary's  guilt  has  been 
canvassed,  whether  in  the  conferences  at  York  and 
Westminister  or  at  the  bar  of  history,  the  question 
has  always  hinged  upon  the  authenticity  of  a  certain 
letter  which  she  has  been  accused  of  writing  to 
Bothwell  from  Glasgow.  In  deciding  her  moral  guilt 
there  is  another  letter  which  weighs  more  heavily 
against  her,  a  poor,  boyish,  happy  letter  of  Darnley's 
written  to  his  father  three  days  before  his  death.  "My 
Lord,"  it  runs,  "  I  have  thought  good  to  write  to  you 
by  this  bearer  of  my  good  health,  I  thank  God,  which 
is  the  sooner  come  through  the  good  treatment  of  such 
as  hath  this  good  while  concealed  their  good  will ;  I 
mean  of  my  love  the  Queen  which,  I  assure  you,  hath 
all  this  while  and  yet  doth  use  herself  like  a  natural 
and  loving  wife."  From  this  it  is  clear  that  under 
the  stimulus  of  partnership  Mary  had  brought  herself 
to  play  that  soft  and  alluring  part  which  at  Glasgow 
had  been  too  abhorrent  to  her. 

Yet  there  were  circumstances  which  would  have 
made  anyone  but  Darnley  uneasy.  The  envoy  from 
the  Duke  of  Savoy  was  in  Edinburgh.  Mary  would 
not  allow  him  to  wait  upon  her  husband,  relentlessly 
reminding  the  latter  that  he  would  naturally  resent 
the  death  of  Riccio  his  former  servant.  Darnley  might 
have  seen  that  Riccio  still  ran  in  her  mind.  Men 
came  in  and  out  of  his  room  ;  men  who  knew  and 
men  who  suspected  the  doom  that  threatened  him,  and 
only  one  voice  was  raised  in  warning.  Lord  Robert 
was  a  mere  boon  companion,  ready  for  any  mischief 
or  revelry,  but  Lord  Robert  felt  pity  where  Murray 
felt    none.     On    Friday  the    7th    February    he   gave 


KIRK  O'  FIELD  127 

Darnley  warning.  The  wretched  boy  under  the  spell 
of  his  wife's  renewed  kindness  must  needs  carry  the 
tale  to  her,  betraying  the  only  friend  he  had.  Next 
morning  she  confronted  her  brother  in  Darnley's 
presence  and  no  course  was  open  to  Lord  Robert  but 
complete  denial  and  indignant  reproaches  against 
Darnley.  So  hot  were  both  the  young  men  that  it 
would  have  come  to  blows  between  them — perhaps 
Mary  hoped  that  it  would — had  not  Murray  interfered. 
This  occurred  on  Saturday  the  8th  and  probably  sug- 
gested to  Murray's  unfailing  instinct  of  prudence  that 
it  was  time  for  him  to  be  out  of  sight  and  hearing. 
He  received  a  message  that  his  wife  was  ill  and  on 
the  morning  of  Sunday,  9th,  departed  to  Fife  to  visit 
her. 

It  was  the  wedding-day  of  one  of  Mary's  French 
servants.  As  usual  Mary  gave  the  wedding-gown 
and  provided  the  feast.  She  supped  that  night  with 
the  Bishop  of  the  Isles  in  Sir  James  Balfour's  house 
in  the  company  of  Huntly,  Cassilis  and  Bothwell. 
Between  nine  and  ten  the  Oueen  with  lighted  torches 
went  up  the  Black  Friar's  Wynd  on  her  way  to  Kirk 
o'  Field.  Had  any  of  her  train  cared  to  look  behind 
they  might  have  seen  in  the  shadow  of  the  narrow 
street  two  pack  horses  laden  with  bags  led  by  two  of 
Bothwell's  serving  men.  It  was  not  Bothwell's  way  to 
leave  detail  to  the  possible  blundering  of  subordinates. 
At  a  "slap"  [gap]  in  the  wall  he  and  his  kinsman 
Hepburn  of  Ormiston  and  young  Hay  of  Talla, 
"  Bothwell's  lambs,"  received  the  bags  of  powder 
from  Wilson  and  Powrie  his  serving  men. 

In  the  Queen's  room  on  the  ground  floor  French 
Paris  kept  the  passage  door  locked,  and  the  powder 
was  probably  carried  in  by  the  garden  door  and  piled 


128  MARY  STUART 

up  on  the  floor.  Meanwhile  Bothwell  had  rejoined 
the  party  in  the  king's  sick-room. 

We  have  a  detailed  picture  of  the  scene.  The 
room  was  lit  by  the  firelight  and  perhaps  by  some 
wax  candles.  The  walls  were  hung  with  tapestry 
— curiously  familiar  it  must  have  looked  to  Huntly's 
eyes.  In  one  corner  was  a  big  bath  covered  in  rude 
fashion  by  an  old  door.  The  bed  was  of  brown-purple, 
a  stately  bed  once  the  possession  of  Mary  of  Guise. 
In  it  lay  Darnley  in  his  taffeta  mask.  On  a  small 
table  covered  with  green  velvet  Huntly,  Bothwell 
and  Cassilis  played  at  dice.  On  a  high  chair  covered 
with  purple  velvet  drawn  beside  the  bed,  sat  the 
Oueen.  She  was  in  her  gentlest  mood,  talking  low 
and  familiarly  with  her  husband.  Yet  once — as  if  her 
tongue  in  spite  of  her  will  must  speak  truth  and  give 
warning — she  reminded  him  that  it  was  almost  a  year 
now  since  Riccio's  death. 

Once  there  were  sounds  from  below  and  Bothwell 
slipped  downstairs  to  order  quiet. 

On  his  return  Paris  appeared  behind  him  ;  it  was 
the  appointed  signal ;  Argyle  knew  it  and  rose. 
Mary  rose  too  exclaiming  that  she  must  not  forget 
her  promise  to  Bastian  to  be  present  at  his  masque. 
When  she  said  good-night  to  her  husband  she  kissed 
him  and  gave  him  a  ring. 

It  would  seem  that  knowledge  of  the  details  of 
the  crime  had  been  kept  from  her.  As  she  mounted 
her  horse,  the  light  of  the  torches  showed  Paris'  face 
begrimed  with  powder  "Jesus,  Paris,  how  black  you 
are,"  she  cried  impulsively. 

In  spite  of  the  ring  and  the  gracious  manner 
Mary's  remark  about  Riccio  had  agitated  her  husband. 
He  repeated  it   uneasily  to  his  chamber-child   after 


KIRK  O'  FIELD  129 

she  was  gone.  Then  together  they  sang  a  psalm. 
The  psalm  is  given  severally  in  two  accounts  as  the 
fifty-fifth  and  fifth.  It  is  strange  how  either  fits  into 
the  circumstances.  "  There  is  no  faithfulness  in  their 
mouth,"  runs  the  fifth  Psalm,  "their  inward  parts 
are  very  wickedness  ;  their  throat  is  an  open  sepulchre  ; 
they  flatter  with  their  tongue."  Or  if  the  psalm  were 
the  fifty-fifth  they  must  have  sung  these  words  :  "  For 
it  was  not  an  enemy  that  reproached  me ;  then  I  could 
have  borne  it  .  .  .  but  it  was  thou  .  .  .  my  com- 
panion and  my  familiar  friend."  Then  he  drank  to 
his  servants  and  fell  asleep. 

If  only  one  might  believe  that  there  had  been  no 
awaking!  If  only  the  poor  soul,  having  taken  his 
good-night  of  the  world  with  holy  words,  had  been 
hurled  swiftly,  abruptly  to  where  there  is  reconcile- 
ment even  for  such  as  he !  The  facts  forbid  such 
imagining.  His  body  with  that  of  his  page  was 
found  next  morning  lying  at  some  distance  from  the 
shattered  house,  with  limbs  unbroken,  clothes  un- 
scorched,  their  faces  not  even  blackened. 

In  one  of  the  confessions  of  the  subordinate 
murderers,  it  was  said  that  a  certain  Captain  Cullen — 
one  of  Bothwell's  followers  and  one  experienced  in  war 
— had  declared  that  explosives  could  not  be  depended 
on  to  destroy  life.  And  in  truth  Nelson,  one  of 
Darnley's  servants,  was  found  alive  under  the  wreck. 

A  woman  who  lived  on  the  town  side  of  the  wall 
deponed  before  the  Privy  Council  that  lying  awake 
in  her  bed  before  the  explosion  she  had  heard  a 
piteous  voice  pleading  for  mercy  in  the  name  of 
Christ. 

Darnley,  it  is  probable,  awakened  from  his  first 
sleep  to  find   his  agonised   fears  a   reality.     Sounds 

i 


130  MARY  STUART 

were  heard  from  below  not  to  be  mistaken.  Hastily 
putting  on  his  furred  bed  gown,  he  would  seem 
to  have  tried  to  escape  with  his  servant  by  the 
window.  He  may  have  alighted  among  armed  men 
guarding  the  house,  or  the  noise  he  made  climbing 
down  the  wall  may  have  brought  them  in  haste  from 
the  house  and  garden.  Some  say  that  he  was  seized 
and  hurried  to  a  neighbouring  stable  and  there 
strangled.  However  it  were,  the  unhappy  boy  would 
find  himself  alone  and  helpless,  surrounded  by 
familiar  faces  whose  looks  of  angry  hate  brought  to 
his  brain  the  swift  certainty  of  death,  the  hopelessness 
of  struggle  and  of  prayers. 

Twenty  years  later  at  Fotheringay,  Mary  was  to 
look  round  an  assembly  of  England's  most  weighty 
counsellors  and  note  the  same  implacable  look  on 
each  grave  face,  "  So  many  counsellors  and  none  for 
me."  Twenty-one  years  of  penance  we  shall  have  to 
weigh  against  the  brief  agony  of  her  boy  husband. 

But  meanwhile  pity  had  no  more  entrance  than 
remorse  into  her  "heart  of  diamond."  She  hated 
Darnley,  but  mere  hatred  to  a  creature  brought  so 
low  could  not  have  supplied  sustaining  motive  in  a 
heart  as  naturally  generous  as  Mary's.  She  meant 
to  remove  Darnley  because  he  stood  between  her 
and  something  that  she  rated  higher  than  life,  some- 
thing that  had  come  to  be  for  the  moment  her  very 
life.  When  her  love  for  Bothwell  began  we,  who  dis- 
count the  slanders  of  Buchanan,  can  never  definitely 
determine.  After  the  Riccio  murder  she  had  clearly 
come  to  lean  on  him  as  she  leaned  on  no  one  else. 
He  was  courageous  even  as  she  was  courageous,  and 
she  hated  the  cowardice  of  Darnley  and  distrusted 
the  pusillanimity  of  Lethington.     Murray  had  sickened 


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KIRK  O'  FIELD  131 

her  with  hypocrisy  and  self-interest,  and  so  far  was 
Bothwell  from  being  a  hypocrite  that  even  she  could 
never  persuade  him  to  deviate  from  his  professed 
Protestantism.  Lethington,  Murray,  all  the  Pro- 
testant lords,  in  fact,  had  intrigued  with  England 
at  one  time  or  another,  and  were  ready  at  any  moment 
to  accept  pay  from  the  English  government  and 
flatter  Queen  Elisabeth ;  Bothwell's  pronounced 
hostility  to  both  had  never  wavered.  Selfish  am- 
bition he  had,  but  it  was  not  the  deep-seated  love 
of  power  of  Murray  nor  the  calculating  greed  of 
Morton  ;  his  was  a  gambler's  ambition,  the  instinct 
to  hazard  all  on  a  throw. 

Mary  persuaded  herself  that  her  love  and  her 
person  were  the  stakes  for  which  he  was  ready  to 
risk  everything.  She  believed  it  because  she  herself 
had  staked  everything.  She  was  blinding  herself 
wilfully,  recklessly  to  the  prohibitive  barriers  that  lay 
between  them.  Below  her  politic  brain,  her  courtly, 
civilised  grace,  her  disciplined  prudence  lay  a  nature 
primitive  and  passionate,  craving  for  self-surrender 
into  the  hands  of  another,  stronger,  more  masterful 
than  herself.  This,  with  tragic  infatuation,  she  thought 
she  had  found  in  one  whose  strength  was  mere  brute 
courage,  whose  most  romantic  feeling  was  the  passion 
of  an  hour,  whose  force  of  will  was  unscrupulous 
ignorance. 

Mary  stayed  but  one  hour  at  the  masque.  When 
she  retired  to  her  own  apartments  in  Holyrood, 
Bothwell  remained  some  time  in  conversation  with 
her.  Was  feeling  so  callous  that  each  spoke  plainly 
to  the  other,  or  did  she  look  at  him  with  sidelong  eyes 
and  white  lips  and  speak  of  indifferent  things  ? 

Bothwell's    movements    that    night    are     known 


132  MARY  STUART 

minutely  by  the  confessions  of  his  servants.  Hastily 
changing  his  fine  suit  into  rougher  clothes,  he  slipped 
out  into  the  night  with  a  couple  of  servants. 

"  Ouha  is  that  ? "  from  the  sentinel  below  the 
south  garden  wall. 

"  Friends." 

"Quhat  friends?" 

"  My  Lord  Both  well's  friends,"  apparently  a 
sufficient  password. 

There  was  a  short  stop  at  Ormiston's  lodgings,  a 
hurried  call  up  a  dark  staircase,  but  prudence  kept 
him  irresponsive,  and  without  delay  the  party  passed 
on  along  the  Friar's  Wynd  to  the  silent  house  beyond 
the  walls. 

Bothwell  passed  in  through  the  gap,  the  servants 
waited  a  breathless  half  hour  till  three  dark  figures, 
Bothwell,  Hepburn  of  Bowton,  and  Talla,  appeared  at 
the  gap.  Then  the  flash  and  thunder  of  an  explosion 
and  all  scatter  as  they  may. 

Frightened  citizens  rushing  to  their  doors  saw 
parties  of  armed  men  speeding  down  the  wynd. 

One  spirited  woman,  a  servant  in  Hamilton  House, 
seized  one  of  the  fliers  by  the  cloak  and  felt  it  to  be 
silk,  no  serving  man's  apparel.  It  could  never  be 
established  who  and  how  many  were  present. 
Doubtless,  Bothwell  had  taken  sufficient  security  that 
Huntly  and  Lethington  should  bear  their  share.  A 
certain  Archibald  Douglas,  a  cousin  and  henchman 
of  Morton,  was  certainly  present,  one  of  his  velvet 
slippers  was  lost  on  the  scene  of  the  murder  ;  he  would 
hardly  have  been  present  without  the  connivance  of 
Morton.  Some  said  that  a  moment  after  the  explosion 
a  light  was  suddenly  extinguished  in  the  archbishop's 
house  close  at  hand. 


KIRK  O'  FIELD  133 

For  years  afterwards,  when  men  wished  to  ruin 
a  political  adversary,  they  brought  and  could  generally 
substantiate  an  accusation  of  being  "art  and  part"  in 
the  king's  murder. 

Bothwell  and  his  servants  failed  to  scramble  over 
the  city  wall  as  they  had  intended,  probably  his  hand 
was  still  stiff  from  the  wound  of  six  months  before. 
They  had  to  brave  the  certainty  of  recognition  and  a 
second  time  to  rouse  the  keeper  of  the  Netherbow 
Port.  Bothwell  was  safely  in  his  room  and  feigning 
sleep  when  a  frantic  knocking  at  his  door  told  him 
that  the  palace  was  aroused.  Mary's  servant,  George 
Hacket,  was  not  in  the  secret.  He  could  not  speak 
articulately  with  terror.  "  The  king's  house  is  blown 
up  and  I  trow  the  king  is  slain  !  "  "  Fie  Treason  !  " 
cried  Bothwell  starting  up. 

With  what  countenance  did  he  and  Huntly  break 
the  news  to  the  Queen  ?  For  one  so  shameless  it  was 
an  easier  matter  to  head  the  body  of  armed  men  who 
hurried  through  streets,  still  dark  but  all  alive  with 
terrified,  chattering  citizens,  to  the  scene  of  the 
murder.  He  commanded  the  two  bodies  to  be  carried 
into  a  stable  near,  where  neither  piety  nor  decency 
provided  any  observance  of  the  dead. 

Next  morning  the  abject  valet  Paris,  creeping  with 
white  terror-stricken  face  into  Holyrood  was  met  by 
Bothwell  with  surly  taunts.  Why  should  he  look  so 
sickly  over  an  affair  in  which  gentlemen — indicating 
Talla,  Bowton  and  the  Ormistons — had  risked  lands 
and  life  ? 

Neither  royal  bedchambers  nor  the  first  hours  of 
widowhood  could  command  decent  privacy  in  the 
crowded  palace  of  Holyrood.  Paris*— if  we  may 
believe   him — slipped    into    Mary's    bedroom.       The 

*  Cf.  next  page. 


134  MARY  STUART 

black  cloth  was  being  hung  on  the  walls,  the  windows 
were  darkened  and  candles  seemed  to  prolong  the 
hideous  night.  A  French  lady  of  the  court  was 
serving  up  Mary's  breakfast— a  fresh  egg — and, 
standing  beside  the  bed  within  the  curtain,  Bothwell 
was  conversing  with  the  Queen. 

Note. — It  is  fair  to  state  that  some  of  the  details  in  the  preceding 
narrative  are  drawn  from  the  evidence  of  French  Paris.  This  evidence 
is  open  to  suspicion.  He  was  examined  in  August  1569  at  St  Andrews. 
In  his  first  deposition  he  accused  Bothwell  and  others  ;  it  was  only  in 
his  second  deposition  under  terror  of  the  rack  that  he  accused  Mary. 
His  depositions  are  at  times  irreconcilable  with  one  another,  sometimes 
with  the  accepted  dates  of  events.  Immediately  after  his  examination 
he  was  put  to  death. 


CHAPTER  XII 

bothwell's  assize 

February  1567 — May   1567 

FOR  months  previously  the  minds  of  the  most  im- 
portant people  had  been  set  on  one  object,  to  clear 
outof  their  road  the  useless,  dissolute  lad  who,  traversing 
their  ambitions,  had  incurred  their  relentless  hatred, 
but  now  that  he  was  dead  on  their  hands,  at  a  stroke 
he  had  become  an  embarrassment,  an  appalling  fact 
for  which  they  were  suddenly  called  on  to  account. 
Strong  in  united  resolution  they  had  forgotten  to 
reckon  with  any  outside  opinion ;  indeed  it  hardly 
existed  for  them.  They  were  the  leaders  of  the 
country.  Both  well  had  his  bands  of  moss-troopers 
ready  to  mount  and  ride  at  his  whistle ;  Huntly  held 
again  all  the  power  of  the  north,  Argyle  commanded 
the  western  clans,  Lethington  was  the  man  of  keenest 
wit  and  Sir  James  Balfour  the  freest  from  scruples  of 
any  in  Scotland.  A  little  apart  from  this  compact 
company  was  Murray,  watchful  to  see  how  the  crimes 
of  bolder  men  could  be  worked  round  to  his  advantage, 
and  Morton  enjoying  in  comparative  irresponsibility 
the  vengeance  wreaked  by  other  hands  on  the 
kinsman  who  had  betrayed  him.  What  chance  had 
the  conscience  of  any  individual  among  them  to  assert 
itself  before  such  a  large  consent  in  crime  ? 

With  steady  countenance  did  Mary  preside  at  a 
meeting  of  the  Privy  Council  on  the  day  following 
Darnley's  death,  where  these  men  met  the  rest  of  the 

135 


136  MARY  STUART 

nobility  to  concert  means  of  discovering  the  murderers 
and  bringing  them  to  justice. 

Meanwhile,  Darnley's  body  lay  in  the  outhouse 
guarded  by  a  treacherous  groom,  Sandy  Durham,  and 
the  people  met  in  the  street  conjecturing,  pointing  and 
whispering  names  below  their  breath.  Something  the 
Privy  Council  had  to  affect  to  do.  Clues  there  were 
many,  but  it  was  unsafe  to  follow  up  any  of  them. 
The  sentinels  were  never  called  who  could  have  identi- 
fied the  "  Friends  to  the  Earl  of  Bothwell  "  who  passed 
in  the  darkness,  nor  the  gate-keeper  who  had  twice 
passed  three  armed  men  through  the  Netherbow  Port. 
Nelson's  evidence  seems  to  have  been  stopped  when 
it  came  to  a  question  of  the  custody  of  the  keys  of  the 
lower  room.  On  Wednesday  [  1 2  th]  the  Council  arrived 
at  the  point  of  offering  a  reward  of  ^2000  and  a  free 
pardon  to  anyone,  whether  party  to  the  murder  or  not, 
who  would  give  information. 

Meanwhile  a  plausible  story  had  to  be  prepared 
for  the  courts  of  Europe,  a  task  for  the  subtle  pen  of 
Lethington.  A  letter  which  arrived  on  Monday 
morning  from  Mary's  ambassador  in  Paris,  the  faithful 
Archbishop  of  Glasgow,  gave  warning  of  vague 
dangers  threatening  the  Queen.  Mary  and  Lethington 
were  quick  to  take  their  cue  from  this  hint.  They 
answered  that  the  warning  was  well-timed  but  had 
come  too  late  ;  disaster  had  indeed  occurred  and  only 
by  the  merest  chance — the  hypocrisy  of  the  age 
sanctioned  the  recognition  of  a  diviner  agent — had  the 
Queen  escaped  the  death  that  was  doubtless  intended 
for  her  also. 

Moretta,  the  Savoyard  ambassador,  who  left 
Edinburgh  thirty-six  hours  after  the  crime,  brought 
the  first  news  of  it  to  London. 


BOTH  WELLS  ASSIZE  137 

Countries  and  courts  were  isolated  in  those  days. 
It  would  take  days  before  light  from  the  public 
opinion  of  other  disinterested,  more  civilised  societies 
could  be  flashed  upon  the  moral  darkness  of  the 
Scottish  court.  But  in  the  meantime  another  public 
opinion,  a  stubborn,  importunate  opinion,  familiar  and 
particular  with  names,  was  making  itself  heard, 
secretly  at  first  in  dark  anonymous  utterances,  but 
every  week  with  increasing  plainness  and  rising 
indignation. 

On  Friday,  the  14th,  late  at  night  the  king's  body 
was  interred  at  the  vault  at  Holyrood  with  lack  alike 
of  royal  pomp  and  decent  piety.  The  next  night  a 
placard  appeared  on  the  door  of  the  Tolbooth  accusing 
the  Earl  of  Bothwell,  his  friend  Sir  James  Balfour, 
Mr  David  Chalmers  and  one,  "  black  Mr  John  Spens  " 
of  the  murder.  It  was  the  consciousness  of  this 
angry  muttering,  this  instinct  in  the  populace  for 
tracking  the  scent  of  murder  that  made  Edinburgh 
hateful  beyond  all  enduring  to  Mary.  After  her  first 
husband's  death  she  had  been  content  to  sit  out  her 
forty  days  in  darkened  rooms,  a  model  to  all  queens 
and  wives,  but  before  a  week  was  over  of  her  second 
widowhood  the  air  of  Edinburgh  had  become  stifling 
to  her. 

Some  miles  from  the  town,  on  the  shore  of  the 
Firth  of  Forth,  lay  Seton,  the  house  of  her  faithful 
Setons,  a  place  to  which  she  had  often  gone  for 
pleasure.  It  was  a  fresh,  pleasant  place,  winds  blew 
in  from  the  sea,  and  whatever  sunshine  a  Scotch 
February  could  boast  flashed  on  blue  waters  and  fair 
meadow  lands.  Here  Mary  spent  most  of  the  ensuing 
weeks,  going  backwards  and  forwards  into  Edinburgh, 
and  here  Bothwell,  Lethington  and  Huntly  were  con- 


138  MARY  STUART 

stantly  her  visitors.  Here  they  could  ignore  the 
voices  that  in  the  midnight  streets  of  Edinburgh 
denounced  the  murderers  by  name,  the  placard  which 
morning  after  morning  kept  up  the  excitement  of  the 
town,  and  forget  that  they  had  yet  to  face  the  suspicions 
and  awkward  questions  of  other  governments. 

Gossip  of  course  was  busy  with  the  Queen's  words 
and  actions.  Some  spiteful  tongue  told  old  Lennox 
that  one  evening  she  had  called  for  the  tune  "Well 
is  me,  since  I  am  free."  At  Berwick  tales  reached 
Drury  of  shooting-matches  at  the  butts  and  games 
of  pall-mall,  and  of  a  dinner  at  Tranent  which  she  and 
Bothwell  had  won  from  Huntly  and  Lord  Seton  at 
a  shooting-match.  Into  the  ghastly  frivolity  of  these 
sports  crashed  like  successive  bombs  uncompromising 
pronouncements  from  the  courts  of  England  and  of 
France.  Du  Croc  had  been  the  first  to  bring  the  news 
to  Paris,  news  received  with  such  horror — genuine  or 
affected — that  the  king's  first  impulse  was  to  dissolve 
his  Scottish  guard.  Spite  had  its  share  in  Catherine's 
conviction  that  her  daughter-in-law  was  at  the  bottom 
of  the  crime,  but  indeed  the  impression  seems  to  have 
been  general.  Mary's  ambassador  could  not  withstand 
the  prevailing  conviction.  He  wrote  with  a  noble  and 
touching  candour  not  concealing  the  fact  that  she 
"  was  wrongously  calumniated  to  be  the  motive 
principal  of  the  whole  and  all  done  by  her  command." 
He  adjures  her  to  take  rigorous  vengeance  "  otherwise 
it  would  be  better  that  she  had  lost  life  and  all." 

For  once  Elisabeth — touched  alike  in  her  family 
pride  and  in  her  sense  of  the  common  dignity  of 
princes — came  out  with  generous  frankness.  To  the 
Spanish  ambassador  she  defended  Mary's  slowness 
in  pursuing  the  murderers  on  the  plea  that  she  was 


BOTHWELL'S  ASSIZE  139 

in  terror  of  her  nobles,  the  real  criminals,  but  to 
Mary  herself  she  wrote  with  admirable  directness 
warning  her  how  men  interpreted  her  reluctance  to 
investigate  the  crime,  and  urging  fcer  to  show  herself 
a  noble  princess  and  a  loyal  wife. 

Even  if  she  had  wished  to  do  so,  all  independent 
action  was  out  of  Mary's  power.  A  common  guilt 
delivers  all  the  participants  into  the  hands  of  the  least 
scrupulous.  In  the  weeks  that  followed  the  murder 
Bothwell  was  insatiable  in  annexing  new  powers  and 
honours.  Mary  bestowed  on  him  the  fortresses  of 
Dunbar  and  Blackness  and  the  superiority  of  the 
Port  of  Leith.  At  the  end  of  March,  the  heart  of  the 
kingdom,  the  Castle  of  Edinburgh,  was  taken  out  of 
the  faithful  hands  of  the  Earl  of  Mar  and  bestowed 
upon  a  creature  of  Bothwell's.  Bothwell  had  need  of 
all  these  supports  in  this  desperate  game.  Mary 
yielded  everything  as  if  anxious  to  propitiate  him  ;  a 
touch  of  fear,  an  eager  anxiety  to  please  and  to  attach 
already  mingled  with  her  passion.  She  had  also  her 
poor  feminine  delight  in  bestowing  rich  gifts  on  her 
lover ;  furs  inherited  from  her  dead  mother,  rare  old 
altar  cloths  and  church  embroideries  cut  up  to  make 
scarves  and  doublets. 

Meantime,  where  was  the  Earl  of  Murray,  the 
hope  of  the  godly?  Apparently  at  St  Andrews 
waiting  on  his  sick  wife.  It  was  not  till  quite  the 
end  of  February  that  he  was  expected  in  Edinburgh. 

Early  in  March  Killegrew  was  sent  from  Elisabeth 
on  a  formal  visit  of  condolence  to  her  cousin,  and 
Mary  had  to  hurry  back  from  Seton  to  be  in  time  to 
darken  her  rooms  and  light  her  candles.  One  evening 
he  was  Murray's  guest  at  supper  and  the  rest  of  the 
party  consisted,  oddly  enough,  of  Lethington,  Bothwell, 


140  MARY  STUART 

Huntly  and  Argyle.  No  one  can  believe  that  Murray 
was  unaware  of  the  suspicions  that  attached  to  all, 
and  were  loudly  proclaimed  in  connection  with  one 
of  the  party.  It  was  obviously  not  his  cue  to  follow 
up  investigations  of  the  murder.  That  duty  was  left 
to  the  father  of  the  dead  man.  Old  Lennox  was 
broken-down,  discredited,  and  terribly  solitary  in  a 
country  where  a  man's  safety  depended  on  the  number 
and  kindness  of  armed  kinsfolk.  He  was  separated 
even  from  the  capable,  ambitious  wife  who  had  planned 
the  fatal  scheme  of  family  aggrandisement.  She, 
stricken  mother  and  thwarted  woman,  was  in  the 
Tower  impotently  clamouring  for  revenge. 

At  first  Lennox  could  get  no  definite  answer  from 
his  daughter-in-law.  He  had  urged  that  the  men 
who  were  by  name  branded  as  murderers  should  be 
arrested.  She  asked,  in  answer,  which  names  he 
meant ;  many  were  advertised  on  anonymous  placards. 
When  he  urged  an  early  investigation  and  trial  of  the 
murderers  she  answered  smoothly  that  a  Parliament 
was  convened  for  April,  and  that  she  could  not  in- 
convenience her  nobles  by  a  double  summons.  Yet 
when  he  took  courage  and  named  in  his  letter  those 
suspected  of  the  murder — Bothwell,  Chalmers,  Balfour 
and  other  creatures  of  the  earl's — she  suddenly 
changed  her  policy,  and  on  the  23rd  of  March 
announced  to  him  that  the  trial  was  appointed  for  the 
ensuing  week  and  invited  him  to  be  present  at  the 
same,  if  it  suited  his  leisure  and  convenience. 
Throughout  she  wrote  with  suave  indifference  as  of 
a  matter  which  concerned  no  one  but  Lennox.  In 
eager  remonstrance  he  replied  that  the  time  allowed 
was  far  too  short  for  him  to  collect  evidence  and 
summon    witnesses.     He   recognised    with    sickening 


BOTHWELL'S  ASSIZE  141 

certainty  the  hopelessness  of  his  cause  when  such 
reasonable  representations  made  but  little  alteration 
in  the  date.  An  Act  of  Council  of  March  28th 
appointed  the  trial  of  the  Earl  of  Bothwell  for  April 
1 2th.  Oddly  enough  Bothwell's  name  stands  among 
those  who  signed  the  Act. 

He  could  count  confidently  on  the  forces  at  his 
command  to  defeat  the  ends  of  justice ;  but  the 
general  atmosphere  of  suspicion  and  the  anonymous 
accusations  tried  his  nerves  and  exasperated  his 
temper.  When  men  spoke  to  him  his  colour  came 
and  went,  his  hand  played  instinctively  with  the 
handle  of  his  dagger ;  fifty  armed  men  clattered  after 
him  when  he  rode  up  the  High  Street.  Matters 
grew  worse  when  the  anonymous  accusers  coupled 
the  Queen's  name  with  his  in  their  proclamations,  and 
hinted  not  obscurely  at  a  purposed  divorce  between 
him  and  his  wife. 

As  yet  the  band  of  conspirators  held  together. 
Huntly  was  entirely  "  at  Bothwell's  devotion,"  partly 
from  the  ascendency  of  the  stronger  man's  nature  but 
more  because  Huntly's  interests  were  bound  up  with 
those  of  his  brother-in-law.  As  the  price  of  the 
complete  restitution  of  his  lands  and  titles  Huntly 
consented  to  the  repudiation  of  his  virtuous  young 
sister  by  her  husband.  The  wrong  done  to  this 
innocent  lady  leaves  a  stain  of  dishonour  on  Mary's 
character  darker  than  even  her  pitiless  vengeance  on 
Darnley. 

The  politic  brain  of  Lethington  was  powerless  to 
arrest  the  current  of  events ;  timidity  kept  him  at 
Bothwell's  side  though  he  hated  him  and  knew  how 
fatally  his  clumsy  selfishness  would  ruin  the  political 
position    which    Mary    and    himself    had    laboriously 


142  MARY  STUART 

gained  through  years  of  diplomacy.  Murray  may 
merely  have  dreaded  Bothwell's  ascendency.  It  is 
hardly  fair  to  assert  that  he  foresaw  the  ruin  towards 
which  Mary  was  tending,  and  calculated  that  time 
would  work  most  profitably  for  him  in  his  absence. 
Whatever  his  motives,  he  was  suddenly  and  with  no 
ostensible  reason  possessed  by  an  urgent  desire  to 
visit  France  and  left  Edinburgh  on  April  9th. 

Even  in  this  time  when  all  Mary's  nobler  nature 
was  under  eclipse,  she  retained  at  least  one  of  her 
finer  characteristics.  Loyalty  to  fellow-sinners  may 
not  be  high  virtue ;  but  it  was  fearfully  lacking  in  the 
men  who,  a  few  months  later,  were  only  too  thankful  to 
make  the  one  woman  a  scapegoat  for  their  common  sin. 
Mary  at  least  was  prepared  to  stand  by  her  partners. 

One  of  the  minor  conspirators  complained  of  an 
accusation  made  against  himself,  and  gave  the  writing 
first  to  Bothwell  and  then  to  Mary.  Having  read  it 
she  handed  it  to  Huntly,  and  turning  her  back  "gave 
ane  thring  with  her  shoulder,  passed  away  and  spake 
nothing."  She  had  no  words  for  one  who  for  fear  or 
favour  hesitated  to  stick  to  his  friends. 

Lennox  had  written  to  Elisabeth  to  entreat  her 
interference  in  procuring  delay.  With  what  friends 
and  followers  he  could  collect  he  was  at  Linlithgow 
the  day  before  the  trial.  A  mandate  reached  him 
there  that  he  must  come  accompanied  by  no  more 
than  six  followers.  It  was  a  sufficient  indication  of 
the  justice  he  might  expect  to  meet  with.  Fearing 
for  his  personal  safety  he  merely  sent  a  servant  to 
lodge  a  remonstrance.  Six  thousand  of  Bothwell's 
men  filled  the  town  on  the  day  of  assize,  he  rode  from 
Holyrood  with  a  guard  of  two  hundred  hackbutters. 

At  daybreak  a  messenger  had  arrived,  dusty  and 


BOTH  WELLS  ASSIZE  143 

sweating  from  Berwick,  bearing  Elisabeth's  remon- 
strance, but  was  denied  admittance  though  he  waited 
hour  after  hour  in  the  throng  before  the  palace  gates. 
Late  in  the  morning  Bothwell  and  Lethington  coming 
out  together  spied  him  and  took  in  his  letter.  Half 
an  hour  later  Lethington  informed  him  that  the  Queen 
was  still  asleep  and  might  not  be  disturbed.  Yet  the 
fellow  maintained  that  he  saw  the  Queen  and  the 
Lady  Lethington  [Mary  Fleming]  at  a  window  waving 
good-bye  to  Bothwell  as  he  rode  away. 

The  court  was  presided  over  by  Argyle  ;  the  jury, 
all  members  of  the  nobility,  had  one  and  all  sufficient 
reason  for  not  offending  Bothwell ;  in  Lennox's 
absence  no  accusation  was  formally  lodged,  Bothwell 
pleaded  not  guilty  and  in  the  absence  of  all  evidence 
to  the  contrary  was  unanimously  acquitted  ;  a  more 
shameless  farce  never  mocked  the  name  of  justice. 

The  only  acts  passed  in  the  Parliament  which  sat 
for  the  ensuing  five  days  are  significant.  Several  acts 
restored  to  Huntly  the  forfeited  possessions  of  his 
house  ;  gifts  of  lands  were  ratified  to  Murray,  Morton, 
Lethington,  to  Sir  James  Balfour's  father-in-law  and 
to  Mr  David  Chalmers.  An  angry  proclamation 
denounced  the  placards  which  continued  daily  to  keep 
the  city  in  excitement ;  concessions  were  made  with 
unusual  liberality  to  the  Protestant  establishment. 

A  delusive  sense  of  triumph  possessed  Bothwell, 
but  he  dared  not  stop  on  the  path  he  was  treading ;  a 
moment's  stay  or  hesitation  would  have  set  aflame  the 
sullen  jealousy  smouldering  in  the  hearts  of  his  peers. 
He  cowed  them  and  kept  them  in  hand  by  sheer 
audacity.  On  the  evening  of  the  19th,  the  day  the 
Parliament  adjourned,  he  bade  a  number  of  noblemen 
to  a  supper  at  a  tavern  kept  by  one  Ainslie. 


144  MARY  STUART 

We  have  no  evidence  as  to  the  amount  of  drink- 
ing common  among  gentlemen  on  convivial  occasions 
in  those  days.  What  follows  would  be  at  once  more 
credible  and  more  creditable  if  we  could  believe  that 
on  that  evening  all  the  most  considerable  of  the 
Scottish  nobility  had  been  drunk.  At  a  late  hour 
in  the  evening  Bothwell  suddenly  produced  a  paper 
or  bond,  which  not  only  established  his  innocence  of 
the  king's  murder  but  recommended  him  as  a  suitable 
husband  for  the  widowed  Queen,  and  to  this  he 
demanded  their  signatures.  Had  one  man  resisted, 
protested  and  threatened,  the  rest  for  shame's  sake 
would  have  stood  by  him,  but  they  were  taken  by 
surprise,  flustered  and  demoralised,  and  when  one  or 
two  had  signed,  the  rest  shamefacedly  followed. 
Later,  as  an  excuse,  some  of  them  asserted  that  they 
had  become  suddenly  aware  that  bands  of  armed  men 
filled  the  house  and  guarded  the  street.  It  is  possible 
that  Morton  when  he  signed  was  playing  a  deeper 
game.  He  may  have  foreseen  that  Bothwell  was 
madly  forcing  on  the  impossible  and  must  inevitably 
fall  dragging  down  the  Queen  in  his  ruin,  a  set  of 
circumstances  out  of  which  the  Scottish  nobility  could 
make  their  profit.  Did  Bothwell  that  evening  add 
the  Ainslie  bond  to  certain  other  documents  which  he 
was  afterwards  believed  to  have  kept  in  a  silver  Casket 
in  careful  custody  at  this  time  at  Dunbar  ? 

The  biographer  of  Mary  must  be  cautious  in  using 
material  the  authenticity  of  which  has  been  matter  of 
endless  controversy  and  of  minutest  criticism  that 
never  yields  a  certain  result ;  but  some  index  we  must 
have  if  we  would  even  attempt  to  follow  and  under- 
stand the  inner  history  of  the  Queen  of  Scots  during 
the  feverish   months   that  lie   between  Glasgow  and 


B0THWEL1/S  ASSIZE  145 

Carberry  Hill.  The  authenticity  of  the  most  im- 
portant of  the  Casket  documents,  the  long  Glasgow 
letter,  must  be  left  in  the  hands  of  experts. #  The 
ordinary  reader  after  numberless  perusals  finds 
himself  in  the  same  dilemma,  discrediting  on  the  one 
hand  the  power  of  any  forger  to  produce  a  composition 
so  subtly  characteristic,  so  dramatically  convincing,  so 
inimitably  inconsecutive,  and  on  the  other  unable  to 
believe  that  any  two  accounts  of  a  conversation  could 
concur  as  exactly  as  does  the  account  of  Mary's  and 
Darnley's  conversation  in  the  Letter  with  the  account 
which  Crawford  swore  had  been  given  him  by  Darnley. 
There  is  less  difficulty  in  accepting  the  Casket 
Sonnets  as  genuine.  They  reveal  a  situation  so 
strained  and  peculiar  that  it  is  difficult  to  imagine 
any  forger  subtle  enough  to  have  imagined  it.  If 
they  are  the  genuine  expression  of  Mary's  passion, 
this  is  the  drama — pitiful  and  humiliating  but  desper- 
ately sincere  and  consequently  human — that  they 
reveal.  It  is  a  bitter,  relentless  struggle  between  two 
women  for  the  love  of  a  man,  a  struggle  in  which  all 
worldly  advancement,  all  the  glory  and  charm  of  the 
richer  nature,  all  the  reckless  passion  that  stops  at  no 
sacrifice  and  proudly  discounts  dishonour  are  on  the 
side  of  the  one  woman,  and  on  the  other,  only  the 
legal  status  of  a  wife,  the  dignity  of  unmerited  wrong 
and  the  hold  a  gentle,  passionless  nature  has  at  times 
on  the  reckless  and  headstrong.  It  was  this  hold 
that  Mary  felt  she  could  not  break.  She  herself 
withheld  nothing  ;  honour,  conscience,  her  high  estate, 
the  kindness  of  friends,  the  safety  of  her  kingdom — - 
she   threw  them   all    into  the  balance,  and   yet   the 

*  The  curious  reader  is  referred  to  Mr  Lang's  "  Mystery  of  Mary 
Stuart"  for  a  full  and  masterly  analysis  of  the  Casket  Letters. 
K 


146  MARY  STUART 

tears    of    pale     Lady    Jean     Both  well     outweighed 
them  all. 

But  Bothwell,  for  the  sake  of  his  giddy  and  ill-calcu- 
lated ambition,  was  as  ready  to  sacrifice  the  heart  of 
the  woman  he  cared  for  as  to  accept  the  dishonour  of 
the  woman  who  loved  him.  By  some  persuasion, 
either  by  pressure  from  her  brother,  or  by  the  sense 
of  her  helpless  isolation,  or  perhaps  by  the  quiescence 
of  a  naturally  passive  character,  Lady  Bothwell  was 
brought  to  consent  to  the  action  for  divorce.  She 
went  a  step  further  in  her  submission  and  locked  up 
in  her  charter  chest  the  Papal  Dispensation  which  had 
sanctioned  her  union  with  Bothwell,  her  far-away  cousin. 
It  was  on  the  ple^jiLcQnsanguinity-that  the  marriage 
was  annulled.  Even  in  that  lawless  age  the  produc- 
tion of  the  Dispensation  would  have  stayed  proceed- 
ings, but  she  had  no  heart  for  such  a  contest. 
Contemporary  opinion  confirms  the  situation  we  find 
in  the  Sonnets.  Observers  thought  little  of  Bothwell's 
love  for  Mary,  while  the  Queen's  "  inordinate  love  for 
Bothwell "  was  gossip  on  every  tongue. 

Kirkcaldy  of  Grange,  a  Protestant  but  above  the 
average  of  the  time  for  honesty,  was  as  vigorous  with 
his  pen  as  with  his  sword.  In  a  letter  to  Bedford  on 
April  20th,  the  morning  after  Ainslie's  tavern,  he 
wrote:  "She  has  said  that  she  cares  not  to  lose 
France,  England  and  her  own  country  for  him  and 
will  go  to  the  world's  end  in  a  white  petticoat  ere  she 
leave  him."  There  is  a  fine  recklessness  in  the  phrase 
that  carries  conviction. 

On  Monday  the  21st  Mary  was  at  Stirling  visiting 
her  son,  Darnley's  child,  who  had  so  slight  a  hold  on 
her  affection.  Meanwhile,  Bothwell  had  gathered  a 
body  of  his  friends  together,  ostensibly  to  ride  into 


BOTHWELL'S  ASSIZE  147 

Liddesdale,  but  wild  rumours  were  flying  as  to  his 
intentions.  On  the  very  day  when  Mary  was  to  ride 
from  Linlithgow  to  Edinburgh  an  anonymous  corres- 
pondent was  foretelling  her  abduction  to  Cecil. 

We  seem  at  this  point  to  pass  from  history  into 
the  pages  of  a  conventional  romance.  A  beautiful 
Queen  is  riding  at  high  noon  between  two  towered 
cities  in  the  richest  and  most  frequented  district  of  her 
country.  In  her  company  are  her  most  trusted 
counsellors  Melville  and  Lethington,  and  Huntly 
a  courtier  and  soldier.  All  at  once,  at  a  point  where 
their  road  crosses  a  bridge,  there  is  the  flash  of 
light  on  steel  caps,  the  clatter  of  horses,  confusion 
and  loud  orders  to  halt.  Strangely,  no  resistance  is 
offered.  The  leader  of  the  hostile  band  seizes  the 
Queen's  bridle  and  she,  the  woman  of  highest  courage 
and  most  imperious  temper  in  the  country,  neither 
blazes  out  into  anger  nor  cries  aloud  for  help ! 

Mary's  attendants  were  dismissed ;  Edinburgh 
was  within  a  few  miles,  yet  it  would  appear  that  none 
of  the  fugitives  appealed  to  the  burghers  to  attempt 
pursuit  and  rescue.  Huntly,  Lethington  and  Melville 
were  carried  off  with  the  Queen.  A  follower  of  Both- 
well,  a  Captain  Blackadder,  riding  at  Melville's  bridle 
assured  him  that  all  was  done  with  the  Queen's  consent. 

Dunbar  was  as  strong  a  place  as  any  in  Scotland, 
the  grey  North  Sea  swinging  on  the  rocks  on  three 
sides  of  it.  Inside  it  was  probably  as  chill  and 
unfurnished  as  on  the  February  morning  when  Mary 
had  found  refuge  there  fleeing  from  Riccio's  murderers. 
She  had  come  without  attendants,  rough  women  from 
the  garrison,  hastily  brought  in,  may  have  waited  on 
her  needs  ;  her  comings  and  goings  were  exposed  to 
the  curious  eyes  and  ribald  tongues  of  the  men-at-arms. 


148  MARY  STUART 

The  following  day  Melville  was  dismissed.  It 
must  soon  have  become  clear  to  Lethington  that 
Huntly  was  in  the  plot.  He  was  himself  in  evil 
plight  and  physical  peril  unnerved  Lethington. 
Huntly  at  one  point  openly  threatened  him,  but 
fallen  and  infatuated  as  she  might  be,  Mary  had  not 
ceased  to  be  a  queen  ;  sweeping  round  on  Huntly  she 
threatened  to  deprive  him  of  lands  and  life  if  a  hair  of 
Lethington's  head  were  touched.  Nay,  she  could 
defy  Bothwell  himself  in  defence  of  an  unarmed  man. 
By  some  means  Lethington  had  received  a  message 
from  some  of  the  nobles  assembled  in  Council  relating 
to  the  rescue  of  the  Queen.  He  was  up  in  her  chamber 
giving  this  message  and  probably  urging  on  her  a 
plan  of  escape. 

Bothwell,  suspicious  of  Lethington's  influence, 
appeared  stealthily  in  the  open  doorway  of  Mary's 
room.  Lethington's  back  was  towards  him  and 
Bothwell  had  raised  his  dagger  to  stab  him  when 
Mary  slipped  in  between  and  drove  Lethington  into 
the  ruelle  between  the  bed  and  the  wall — it  was  not 
the  first  time  that  slender  body  had  thrust  itself 
between  an  unarmed  man  and  drawn  daggers.  It 
needed  entreaties,  alas !  as  well  as  authority  to  stem 
the  brutal  wrath  of  Bothwell. 

It  was  not  Lethington's  policy  to  publish  the  fact 
that  he  owed  life  itself  to  his  Queen  ;  the  incident 
was  told  years  afterwards  in  an  apology  for  William 
Maitland  of  Lethington  written  by  his  son,  and  he 
may  have  had  the  story  from  his  mother  who  never 
to  the  end  lost  her  love  of  her  mistress. 

Of  the  ten  days  that  Mary  and  Bothwell  spent  at 
Dunbar  in  strange,  unnatural  isolation  we  have  only 
two    fragmentary    bits    of   information   which    tell   us 


BOTHWELL'S  ASSIZE  149 

nothing.  An  Englishman  from  Berwick  in  passing 
by  saw  the  pair  walking  together  strongly  guarded, 
Bothwell  in  gorgeous  apparel.  The  second  glimpse 
is  politically  more  important.  These  ten  days  had 
given  the  rest  of  the  nobility,  Erskine,  Athol,  Glencairn, 
Morton  and  others,  time  to  draw  together  and  to 
realise  that,  Ainslie  bond  or  no  Ainslie  bond,  they 
would  never  endure  that  Bothwell  should  be  promoted 
over  their  heads.  This  point  was  clear  to  them  but 
nothing  else.  To  them  Mary  wrote  a  formal  letter 
saying  that  it  was  true  that  she  had  been  "  evil  and 
strangely  handled,  but  since,  so  well  used  as  she  had 
no  cause  to  complain,"  willing  them  to  quiet  themselves. 
Meantime  the  Law  Courts  were  at  work  to  set 
Bothwell  free  to  marry  the  Queen.  On  the  third  of 
May  the  Consistorial  Court  divorced  Lady  Bothwell  on 
the  ground  of  her  husband's  adultery  with  one  of  her 
maids,  on  the  seventh  Archbishop  Hamilton  dissolved 
the  marriage  on  the  ground  of  consanguinity,  though 
a  little  more  than  a  year  previously  he  had  himself 
signed  the  Dispensation  for  the  marriage  of  the  pair. 

Of  all  the  characters  in  this  tragical  history  Lady 
Bothwell  alone  was  to  live  and  see  good  days. 
While  Mary  was  expiating  the  sins  and  follies  of 
her  youth  hour  by  hour  through  twenty  heavy  years, 
while  Bothwell  was  fretting  his  soul  into  madness  in 
his  Danish  prison,  Jean  Gordon,  the  honoured  wife 
of  the  Earl  of  Sutherland,  was  superintending  agri- 
cultural improvements  and  rearing  up  sons  one  of 
whom  was  to  write  a  pious  and  affectionate  eulogy 
of  his  mother.  In  the  evening  of  her  life  she  married 
her  first  love,  Ogilvy  of  Boyne,  Mary  Beaton,  his  first 
wife,  being  dead. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

CARBERRY    HILL 
15th  June  1567 

ON  the  6th  of  May  Mary  and  Bothwell  re-emerged 
into  the  world,  a  world  more  changed  and 
hostile  than  it  was  possible  for  Mary  to  conceive.  At 
all  times  it  is  incredible  to  a  young  and  beautiful 
woman  that  fate  and  men's  minds  can  be  relentless 
where  she  is  in  question  :  in  the  sixteenth  century 
princes  and  potentates  ignored  the  existence  of  any 
public  opinion  beyond  that  of  courts  and  governments. 
The  first  task  that  lay  before  Mary  was  confront- 
ing the  courts  of  England  and  France  with  a  plausible 
apology  for  her  proposed  marriage.  She  must  have 
had  perplexing  and  dispiriting  visions  of  how  Bothwell 
would  fit  into  that  delicate  game  of  European  politics 
in  which  she  would  inevitably  have  to  resume  her 
part.  Could  she  imagine  this  swaggering  Borderer 
an  ally  of  Philip  of  Spain,  or  a  welcome  kinsman 
to  the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine  ?  Could  she  imagine  the 
new  Pope,  the  devout  Pius  V.,  sending  her  his  bless- 
ing [and  subsidy]  on  her  new  marriage  ?  She  had 
never  lost  sight  of  her  prospect  of  some  day  wearing 
the  English  crown,  could  she  dream  seriously  of 
sharing-  it  with  Bothwell  ?  Ambition  had  been  the 
very  breath  of  her  life,  diplomacy  the  art  in  which 
she  excelled  all  women  of  her  time,  yet — if  we  are  to 
believe  the  Sonnets — she  had  thought  these  not  too 

dear  a    sacrifice   to    pay  for  love.      But    till    it    was 

150 


CARBERRY  HILL  151 

clear  that  the  sacrifice  was  to  be  exacted  she  made 
a  bold  effort  to  piece  the  new  life  on  to  the  old. 

The  last  service  Lethington  rendered  as  Secretary 
was  to  draw  up  instructions  for  Robert  Melville  and 
the  Bishop  of  Dunblane  severally  accredited  to  the 
courts  of  England  and  France.  To  represent  the 
Earl  of  Bothwell  as  a  suitable  consort  for  a  Queen  of 
Scots  and  Dowager  of  France  and  at  the  same  time 
to  represent  Mary  as  the  innocent  victim  of  his 
masterfulness  was  a  tour  de  force  beyond  even 
Lethington's  subtle  pen.  Nor  were  the  curt,  uneasy 
letters  which  Bothwell  himself  addressed  to  Elisabeth 
and  to  the  French  king  calculated  to  improve  his 
position  with  sovereigns  certain  to  resent  the  sudden 
equality  with  themselves  into  which  he  had,  momen- 
tarily, thrust  himself. 

Paris  and  London,  however,  were  far  off,  there 
were  more  dangerous  critics  to  be  faced  at  home.  It 
was  a  shabby  court  that  Mary  kept  at  Holy  rood  in 
those  May  days.  Sir  James  Balfour  held  the  Castle 
in  Bothwell's  interest,  for  Sir  James'  complete  lack 
of  principle  inspired  Bothwell  with  confidence,  quite 
misplaced  as  it  turned  out.  Huntly  remained,  but 
he  was  so  bound  up  with  the  whole  story  that 
his  presence  counted  for  nothing.  The  faithful  and 
uncritical  among  Mary's  friends,  the  Flemings, 
Livingstons,  Setons  remained  with  her  of  course. 
Another  friend,  Lord  Herries,  was  devoted  enough  to 
ride  from  his  home  in  the  Borders  to  throw  himself 
at  her  feet  and  beg  her  to  stop  on  the  fatal  course 
on  which  she  had  entered.  Far  from  resenting  her 
neglect  of  his  advice,  he  was  to  stand  by  her  in  the 
darkest  hour  of  her  fortunes. 

It   may   have   been    partly   curiosity   as    well   as 


152  MARY  STUART 

kindness  that  brought  Sir  James  Melville  to  court 
in  those  days.  A  letter  from  a  scandalised  English 
adherent  which  he  one  day  handed  to  the  Queen, 
conveyed  the  warning  he  wished  to  give  her.  She 
read  it  and,  turning  angrily  on  Lethington,  said  that 
this  was  one  of  his  devices.  The  Secretary,  uneasy 
and  alienated  in  a  quasi-imprisonment,  added  nothing 
to  Mary's  dignity  or  security.  Meantime  at  Stirling 
the  nobles  were  drawing  together,  hostile  and  watch- 
ful. If  they  were  aloof  and  sullen,  the  populace  in 
the  streets  of  Edinburgh  were  plain-spoken  enough. 
No  carriage  in  those  days  sheltered  or  concealed  the 
great.  Mary  walking  or  riding  up  the  steep  High 
street  was  watched  by  curious  eyes  from  stair-head 
and  window.  "God  bless  your  Grace  if  you  are 
saikless  of  the  king's  murder,"  cried  the  women  after 
her  in  their  loud,  fierce  Scots. 

Twice  before  Mary  had  faced  a  conspiracy  of  nobles 
and  scattered  them  by  the  force  of  her  high  spirit  and 
capacity  ;  she  could  trust  to  success  and  her  own 
fascination  to  win  back  the  fickle  mob,  but  between 
these  two  lay  the  solid,  unconsidered  but  determined 
and  determining  conscience  of  the  country,  the 
ministers  and  their  following  of  decent  burghers  and 
country  gentlemen. 

Knox  was  still  an  exile  in  England,  but  the 
rebuke  uttered  in  the  pulpit  of  St  Giles  was  more 
effective  as  coming  from  a  modest  and  courageous 
man,  his  coadjutor  John  Craig.  When  constrained  to 
publish  the  banns  of  marriage  before  the  congregation 
of  St  Giles,  Craig  denounced  the  iniquity  of  such  an 
union,  and  poured  contumely  on  a  nobility  whose 
silence  and  flattery  connived  at  such  abomination. 
Not    only    from  the  security   of   the    pulpit   did   this 


CARBERRY  HILL  153 

simple  minister  put  to  shame  the  natural  leaders  of 
the  people,  alone  before  the  Privy  Council  he  accused 
Bothwell  of  murder,  rape,  adultery  and  collusion  in 
the  matter  of  the  divorce.  Bothwell  muttered  fiercely 
that  he  would  have  the  minister  hanged  with  a 
cord. 

By  two  organs  did  public  opinion  find  expression, 
the  pulpit  and  placards.  The  latter  were  found 
nailed  up  on  the  very  gates  of  Holyrood.  On  the  eve 
of  her  marriage,  the  night  of  the  14th  May,  this  line 
from  Ovid  was  posted  up  : — 

"  Mense  malas  Maio  nubere  vulgus  ait." 

Early  on  that  summer  morning  Mary,  dressed  in 
her  "  dule  weed,"  was  married  to  Bothwell  in  the  Council 
Hall  of  Holyrood.  Adam  Bothwell,  the  renegade  bishop 
of  the  Orkneys,  performed  the  ceremony  according  to 
the  Protestant  rites,  for  so  and  only  so  would  Bothwell 
have  it.  It  was  the  last  sacrifice  Mary  brought  him 
and  was  probably  the  hardest  strain  on  her  conscience. 
The  wedding  was  poorly  attended.  The  French 
ambassador  du  Croc,  like  Throckmorton  a  true  friend 
to  Mary  in  good  or  evil  fortune,  refused  to  be  present. 
Later  in  the  day  he  visited  the  couple  and  was  aware 
of  a  painful  constraint  between  them.  Mary  excused 
it,  saying  that  she  had  no  wish  to  be  cheerful ;  then, 
suddenly  breaking  down,  she  cried  that  she  wished 
she  were  dead.  Two  days  later  Huntly  and  Melville 
standing  outside  her  little  closet  heard  the  two  voices 
raised  in  agitation  and,  finally,  the  Queen  threatening 
passionately  to  kill  herself. 

The  cause  of  their  common  unhappiness  was 
neither  the  sting  of  remorse  nor  the  sense  of  isolation — 
together  they  would  have  stifled  conscience  and  defied 


154  MARY  STUART 

the  world — but  they  found  no  comfort  in  one  another. 
Bothwell  held  the  cynical  views  of  one  who  had 
met  with  signal  success  in  his  many  and  varied 
gallantries.  A  day  or  two  before  the  marriage  Sir 
James  Melville  found  him  at  supper  with  Huntly  and 
others  and,  on  his  invitation,  joined  the  company. 
But  the  conversation  took  so  licentious  a  turn  that 
Melville — no  Puritan  but  simply  a  decent  gentleman — 
left  the  table  in  disgust  and  joined  the  Queen,  "who," 
he  adds,  "  was  very  glad  to  see  me."  To  a  man  of 
Bothwell's  calibre,  the  reckless  generosity  of  Mary's 
love  was  merely  a  cause  of  suspicion  ;  he  knew,  he 
said  brutally,  "  qu'elle  aimait  son  plaisir  autant  qu'un 
autre."  So  jealous  was  he  that  he  would  hardly 
suffer  her  to  speak  to  man  or  woman.  The  bitterest 
jsang  of  all  was  that  Mary  knew  and  all  the  world 
Hcnew  thatrie  still  corresponded  with  his  wife  at  Crichton, 
writing  to  her  once  or  twice  a  week,  doing  thus  a 
strange,  unnatural  dishonour  to  both  women. 

Those  who  have  felt  and  loved  the  charm  and 
noble  qualities  of  Mary — and  in  this  almost  all  her 
biographers  are  among  her  servants — must  be  thank- 
ful for  the  rapid  fatality  that  was  overtaking  her. 
Some  great  and  signal  tragedy  was  the  only  possible 
escape  from  such  degradation. 

At  the  beginning  of  June  Lethington  had  slipped 
away  from  court  and  joined  the  lords  at  Stirling. 
Their  policy  had  at  last  become  clear  to  them.  The 
outcry  of  foreign  nations  about  the  king's  murder  had 
touched  them  in  their  national  honour ;  besides, 
pursuit  of  the  murderers  was  safe,  now  that  the  scape- 
goat was  isolated  and  discredited.  Punishment  of  the 
murderers  was  one  avowed  object,  another  the  pro- 
tection of  the  little  prince,  a  third  the  liberation  of  the 


CARBERRY  HILL  155 

Queen  from  Bothwell,  a  legal  fiction  this  last,  to  save 
them  from  the  appearance  of  rebellion. 

Things  looked  so  menacing-  that  on  the  usual 
pretence  of  establishing  order  on  the  Border,  Mary 
sent  out  proclamations  calling  on  the  lieges  to  meet 
her  and  Bothwell  at  Melrose.  Together  they  moved 
southward  to  Borthwick  Castle.  At  the  same 
moment  Athol  and  Lethington  entered  Edinburgh, 
nor  had  the  latter  much  trouble  in  persuading  Sir 
James  Balfour  to  betray  the  Castle  into  their  hands. 

Bothwell  had  already  left  Borthwick  when,  on  the 
night  of  the  ioth  of  June,  it  was  surrounded  by  a 
hostile  band  calling  loudly  on  him  to  surrender  and 
shouting  insults  at  the  Queen.  Nevertheless  when 
they  found  that  he  was  gone,  to  save  appearances 
they  rode  back  to  Edinburgh.  The  next  evening 
Mary  in  a  page's  dress  slipped  out  of  the  castle  and 
rode  towards  Dunbar.  She  was  unattended,  but  a 
mile  or  two  out  was  met  by  her  husband.  At  three 
in  the  morning,  with  the  summer  dawn  broadening 
over  the  sea,  they,  for  the  third  time,  reached  that 
windy  fortress,  more  tragically  bound  up  with  Mary's 
fortune  than  even  Holyrood  or  Fotheringay. 

Here  probably  some  woman  of  the  garrison 
supplied  her  with  clothes,  a  short  red  petticoat,  a  velvet 
hat,  and  sleeves  with  points,  the  ordinary  costume 
of  an  Edinburgh  burgher  wife.  She  was  in  such 
mean  apparel  when,  on  the  morning  of  the  15th  of 
June,  she  and  Bothwell  led  out  their  army  and  occupied 
Carberry  Hill. 

Troops  had  been  slow  to  come  in.  Besides  the 
Queen's  bodyguard  of  two  hundred  hackbutters  they 
could  count  on  little  over  2500  men  and  most  of 
these   were  tardy  and   uncertain.      Lord    Seton   was 


156  MARY  STUART 

the  only  nobleman,  and  some  Lothian  lairds,  neigh- 
bours of  Bothwell's,  the  only  men  of  position  in 
their  army. 

With  all  his  reckless  courage  Bothwell  had  not 
"that  in  his  face  which  men  would  fain  call  Master: 
Authority."  A  few  weeks  before  in  the  very  hall  at 
Holyrood  the  soldiers  had  mutinied  for  lack  of  pay 
and  he,  knowing  no  method  but  that  of  violence,  had 
struck  their  leader  and  had  barely  escaped  their 
vengeance.  But  if  he  could  not  keep  an  army 
together  he  could  dispose  it  skilfully  and  lead  it 
"  gaillardement "  as  du  Croc  noticed  when  he  rode  up 
to  make  a  last  attempt  at  an  accommodation  between 
the  two  parties.  His  efforts  were  fruitless.  The 
nobles  would  hear  of  two  conditions  only ;  either 
Mary  must  abandon  Bothwell  and  return  to  them,  in 
which  case  they  would  serve  her  on  bended  knees, 
or,  if  Bothwell  would  try  the  ordeal  by  combat,  they 
were  ready  to  supply  half  a  dozen  champions.  The 
first  condition  Mary  would  not  consider  for  a  moment. 
She  who  never  abandoned  the  meanest  of  her  servants 
was  not  likely,  at  a  crisis,  to  desert  the  man  she  loved. 

She  complained  bitterly  that  the  nobles  had  them- 
selves cleared  Bothwell  of  onilt  and  had  recommended 
him  to  her  as  a  husband.  Bothwell  had  been 
marshalling  his  troops  and  rode  up  at  this  instant. 
He  was  willing  he  declared  to  accept  the  combat  but 
the  Queen  interposed ;  it  was  her  quarrel  as  well  as 
his,  she  would  not  suffer  him  to  try  it  alone. 

Then  Bothwell  gaily  bade  du  Croc  stay  to  enjoy 
the  spectacle  of  the  battle,  quoting  a  parallel  from 
classical  history.  If  the  passage  is  not  to  be  found,  it 
proves  at  least  that  Bothwell's  pulses  were  beating 
evenly.      So  gallant  and  assured  was  his  bearing,  so 


CARBERRY  HILL,  157 

skilful  his  disposition  of  his  troops  that  du  Croc  left 
with  the  impression  that  he  would  have  the  better  in 
the  fight  if  only  his  men  proved  trustworthy.  That 
was  the  fatal  weakness.  When  the  two  armies  stood 
opposite,  the  men  on  Mary's  side  refused  to  advance 
and  insisted  on  negotiations  being  renewed.  No 
conditions  were  offered  except  the  renewed  offer  of 
single  combat. 

What  can  have  been  the  reason  of  Mary's  un- 
willingness to  permit  the  combat  ?  It  is  not  unusual  for 
high-spirited  women,  insensible  to  personal  fear,  to  be 
tremulous  for  the  far  stronger  men — husbands  and  sons 
— whom  they  love.  But  one  cannot  help  thinking 
that  superstition  or  conscience  shook  Mary's  courage. 
The  judgment  of  God  was  still  believed  to  nerve  the 
arm  and  sharpen  the  weapon  against  the  guilty.  Grange 
and  Tulliebardine  were  rejected  as  not  being  Bothwell's 
equals.  The  same  could  not  be  urged  against  Lord 
Lindsay  but  the  Queen  would  have  none  of  it.  He 
was  her  husband,  he  should  fight  with  none  of  them. 

By  this  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon.  Mary's  troop 
had  dwindled,  the  men  slipping  off  in  search  of  pro- 
vender. Through  long  hours  of  waiting  her  fiery 
spirit  had  chafed  against  delay,  now,  sick  at  heart,  she 
recognised  that  no  fighting  was  possible  that  day.  Then 
her  one  object  was  to  secure  a  safe  retreat  for  Bothwell. 

From  Grange  she  had  learned  that,  for  her 
husband,  no  terms  were  to  be  made.  The  noblemen 
were  resolved  to  have  his  blood  ;  for  herself,  if  she 
would  leave  him,  she  should  have  all  honour  and 
obedience  at  their  hands. 

Meanwhile  the  hostile  army  disturbed  at  the 
absence  of  Grange,  was  seen  to  be  advancing ;  it  was 
time  that  Bothwell  was  away. 


158  MARY  STUART 

A  certain  French  soldier  of  fortune,  but  a  man  of 
sensibility,  has  described  their  parting.  "  Wherefore 
she  caused  the  duke  #  to  depart  with  great  pain  and 
anguish,  and  with  many  long  kisses  they  took  farewell, 
and  at  last  he  asked  her  if  she  would  keep  the  faith 
she  had  given  him  and  she  answered  that  she  would. 
Thereupon  she  gave  him  her  hand  and  he  with  a 
small  company  galloped  off  to  Dunbar." 

Yet  before  Bothwell  left  the  Queen  he  had 
provided  her  with  a  weapon  against  her  enemies. 
He  assured  her  of  the  complicity  in  Darnley's  murder, 
of  Lethington,  Balfour  and  Morton,  and  gave  her 
some  paper  signed  by  Lethington.  [This  was  not  the 
Craigmillar  document,  the  bond  Bothwell  had  shown 
to  Bowton  before  the  murder ;  that  document  had 
been  left  in  Balfour's  keeping,  and  Randolph,  writing 
long  afterwards,  declared  that  it  had  been  destroyed 
by  him  and  Lethington.] 

All  that  hot  June  day  from  five  in  the  morning  till 
eight  at  night  Mary  had  endured,  foodless  and  shelter- 
less, a  prey  to  the  crudest  emotions.  Her  mood  was 
not  one  of  lassitude  or  abasement,  rather  of  fury  and 
bitterness,  when  she  met  the  hostile  lords.  "  How  is 
this,  my  Lord  Morton,"  she  cried  tauntingly,  "  I  am 
told  that  this  is  done  to  get  justice  against  the  king's 
murderers.  I  am  told  also  that  you  are  one  of  them." 
Seeing  Lindsay,  her  anger  overflowed  "  Ah,  my  Lord 
Lindsay,  I  will  have  your  head  for  this." 

Below  the  fine  politic  brain  of  the  Guise,  below 
the  generous  recklessness  of  the  Stuart  was  a  sub- 
stratum of  Tudor  coarseness  and  violence  which  once 
or  twice  in  her  life-time  came  to  the  surface  in  furious 

*  Shortly  before  the  marriage  Mary  had  created  Bothwell  Duke  of 
the  Orkneys. 


CARBERRY  HILL  159 

speech.  All  the  way  into  Edinburgh  she  railed  at 
her  captors. 

The  brutal  cry  of  the  soldiers,  "  Burn  the  whore," 
was  a  sudden  horrible  revelation  of  public  feeling- 
moving  her  to  angry  tears  till  Grange  silenced  the 
speakers,  striking  with  the  flat  of  his  sword.  Flaunted 
in  front  of  her,  men  carried  a  banner  on  which  was 
depicted  her  murdered  husband  lying  under  a  tree  and 
her  infant  son  invoking  the  vengence  of  Heaven  on 
the  murderers. 

Up  the  crowded  streets  of  Edinburgh  they  carried 
her,  dishevelled,  dusty,  hardly  able  to  sit  her  horse. 
Street  windows  and  stair-heads  were  crowded  by  an 
excited  populace  crying  vengeance  on  her,  the  women 
being  especially  impudent  and  vociferous.  At  a  corner 
of  the  High  Street  where  a  steep  wynd  led  down  to 
the  Cowgate  stood  a  stately  house  where  the  Provost, 
Simon  Preston  of  Craigmillar,  had  his  lodging. 
There  in  a  small  room  looking  out  on  the  High  Street 
Mary  spent  the  night. 

Food  she  would  have  none  nor  was  sleep  possible 
in  the  narrow  space  she  shared  with  her  guards,  mere 
rough  soldiers.  No  woman  was  allowed  to  wait  on 
the  unfortunate  Queen  in  her  bitter  need.  It  would 
seem  that  she  contrived  to  write  to  Bothwell  merely 
to  assure  him  of  her  love  and  faith,  but  the  paltry  knave 
to  whom  she  entrusted  the  letter  handed  it  to  the 
lords. 

Early  in  the  morning  dishevelled  and  with  dis- 
ordered garments  she  leaned  from  her  window,  com- 
manding, entreating  the  passers-by  to  rescue  her. 
She  saw  Lethington  below  in  the  street  and  called  to 
him  to  come  up.  He  crushed  his  hat  further  on  his 
head  and  would  have  passed  on,  but  feeling  among  the 


160  MARY  STUART 

mob  was  divided  and  running  high  and  for  very 
shame's  sake  he  went  up. 

Mary's  bitterest  grievance  was  still  that  they  had 
parted  her  from  her  husband.  Either  to  cure  her 
infatuation  or  to  relieve  spiteful  feelings  of  his  own, 
Lethington  said  the  crudest  thing  he  could  think  of; 
Bothwell  was  not  worth  her  regretting,  he  had  always 
preferred  his  own  wife  to  her,  he  had  assured  Lady 
Bothwell  of  it  in  letter  after  letter.  A  week  earlier 
the  words  would  have  cut  to  the  quick  ;  now  the  fact 
of  separation  had  swept  jealousy  and  suspicion  aside. 
Let  them  place  her,  she  cried,  on  a  ship  with  Bothwell 
to  drift  at  the  winds'  will.  On  this  point  she  was 
clearly  impracticable,  but  on  others  she  was  clear- 
headed and  dangerously  aware  of  the  points  she  held 
in  her  hand. 

Later  in  the  day  Lethington  was  with  her  again. 
She  declared  that  she  was  willing  to  join  in  prosecuting 
the  murderers,  and  told  him  plainly  that  she  had  seen 
his  signature  and  knew  from  Bothwell  of  Morton's 
and  Balfour's  complicity. 

It  was  clear  defiance.  Each  knew  enough  to  hang 
the  other.  At  first  Lethington  was  inclined  to  accept 
it  as  such,  but  prudence  and  compromise  were  of 
the  essence  of  the  man.  He  left  the  Queen  with 
some  vague  promise  of  serving  her  at  a  future  time. 
It  was  clearly  for  his  interest  and  Morton's  that 
she  should  be  moved  out  of  the  way.  Besides  the 
mob  had  to  be  reckoned  with,  it  might  rise  at  any 
moment  either  to  wreak  vengeance  on  Mary  or  to 
rescue  her. 

At  eight  in  the  evening  the  lords  conducted  her  to 
Holyrood ;  she,  poor  soul,  believed  that  they  meant 
to    reinstate    her    there.       A    body    of    300    hack- 


CARBERRY  HILL  161 

butters   guarded  her    down  the   street,    Morton   and 
Athol  walked  on  either  side  of  her. 

The  only  softening  touch  is  supplied  by  the 
presence  of  two  faithful  Maries,  Mary  Livingston — 
now  Mary  Sempill — and  Mary  Seton.  By  their  kind 
care  the  Queen  now  wore  a  bedgown  of  shot  silk. 
After  supper,  of  which  she  again  refused  to  partake,  it 
was  announced  to  her  that  she  must  mount  and  ride 
that  very  night,  must  cross  the  Firth  and  make  no 
stay  till  she  reached  the  castle  of  Loch  Leven.  From 
Leith  onwards  she  was  guarded  by  Lord  Lindsay  and 
Lord  Ruthven. 

She  knew  that  Huntly  and  the  Hamiltons,  though 
they  had  failed  to  appear  at  Carberry,  still  held  the 
field.  She  had  a  wild  hope  that  a  rescue  might  be 
attempted  and  tried,  during  the  long  night  ride,  to 
slacken  the  pace,  pleading  weariness,  but  relentlessly 
her  companions  spurred  on  the  tired  jades  that  carried 
them. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  Tuesday,  June  17th,  she 
reached  the  island-castle  of  Loch  Leven  in  a  half  faint- 
ing- condition.  Nature  was  merciful  and  for  a  fortnight 
her  physical  condition  dulled  her  mental  misery. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

LOCH    LEVEN 
June  1567 — May  1568 

IFE  with  its  burden  of  remembrance  and  fear,  of 
■*— '  thwarted  passion  and  unquenchable  vitality, 
came  back  rapidly  to  Mary.  She  had  been  isolated 
during  the  days  of  her  sickness  with  two  waiting 
women  and  her  apothecary.  Now  she  found  herself 
in  the  middle  of  a  crowded  household,  boxed  up  in 
narrow  buildings  on  a  small  island.  Day  after  day  she 
was  to  look  out  across  the  placid  grey  lake  at  her  feet,  to 
rounded  lines  of  green  hills.  About  a  mile  across  the 
water  a  huddled  group  of  low  roofed  cottages  repre- 
sented the  only  point  from  which  help  or  excitement 
or  new  terrors  could  reach  her  in  her  island  prison. 

The  place  was  remote,  cut  off  from  the  larger  world, 

yet    in    itself  afforded   neither    solitude   nor   privacy. 

But  at  first  the  crowded  life  in  the  castle,  the  eyes 

that  looked  at  her  with  curiosity,  hostility  or  furtive 

sympathy,  the  figures  that  passed  her  on  the  narrow 

stair  or  crossed  the  court  below  her  windows,  were  but 

moving  shadows  to  the  dulled  perceptions  of  the  Queen. 

Two  instincts  absorbed  all  her  powers  of  feeling  and 

of  willing ;  a  haunting  terror  of  what  might  be  done 

to  her  and  determination  to  resist  all  demands  to  give 

up  her  husband.     At  times  she  looked  for  nothing  but 

death.     Once  seeing  a  page  below  her  window  she 

called  out  to  him  to  bid  her  friends  pray  God  for  her 

soul  for  there  was  little  hope  for  her  body.     Yet  no 
163 


u 


[Thomas  tie  Leu) 


CHARLES   IX,    KINO  OF   FRANCE 


LOCH  LEVEN  163 

fear  shook  her  constancy.  Between  her  and  Bothwell 
at  this  time  there  was  a  bond  which  even  a  less  loyal 
and  affectionate  woman  could  not  have  disregarded. 
She  believed  that  she  carried  Bothwell's  unborn  child 
below  her  heart.  When,  after  the  agitation  of  the 
abdication,  that  prospect  was  swept  away,  her  mind 
recovered  its  spring  and  all  her  energies  bent  them- 
selves to  reconstituting  her  life  and  recovering  liberty 
and  position. 

One  of  the  sorest  troubles  of  her  captivity — and 
through  the  long  years  in  England  it  was  the  same — 
was  that  she  was  cut  off  from  all  news  of  the  outer 
world  except  such  things  as  her  gaolers  chose  to 
communicate,  and  these  were  always  disheartening  or 
alarming. 

Day  after  day  she  must  have  dreaded  to  hear 
that  Bothwell  was  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies.  With 
her  unconquerable — and  inexperienced — hopefulness 
she  counted  up  the  friends  on  whose  help  she  could 
depend.  There  was  Elisabeth,  the  sister-queen,  with 
whom  she  had  exchanged  false,  fervid  vows  of  fidelity  ; 
there  was  the  King  of  France  with  whom  she  had 
been  brought  up  ;  surely  also  there  was  the  whole 
chivalry  of  that  French  court  where  she  had  been 
admired  and  loved ;  there  was  the  King  of  Spain  on 
whom  her  religion  gave  her  a  claim  ;  and,  coming 
nearer  home,  there  was  her  brother  the  Earl  of 
Murray,  to  whose  return  she  looked  forward  with  ill- 
founded  hopes  of  comfort  and  protection. 

Lady  Murray  certainly  visited  her  in  the  first 
weeks  of  her  captivity.  The  two  ladies  met  in  tears 
and  parted  with  sorrow  from  one  another.  We  know 
little  of  Agnes  Keith,  Lady  Murray,  save  the  "long 
love "  she  had  borne  her   husband   before   marriage 


164  MARY  STUART 

and  the  ugly  greed  with  which  she,  later,  clung  to 
Mary's  jewels  when  these  passed  into  her  charge, 
but  the  tears  she  shed  with  the  unhappy  Queen  may 
be  counted  to  her  for  righteousness. 

Could  Mary  have  known  all  that  was  passing  in 
the  outer  world  it  would  have  added  nothing  to  her 
peace.  Two  days  after  she  had  been  spirited  off  to 
Loch  Leven  fortune  brought  a  windfall  to  the  Lords 
which  strengthened  their  hands  materially. 

Word  came  to  Morton  and  Lethington  as  they 
sat  at  dinner  that  three  of  Bothwell's  personal  servants 
had  passed  into  the  Castle.  At  once  a  search  was 
made  for  them,  and  by  the  treachery  of  a  certain 
"good  fellow,"  one  of  them,  George  Dalgleish,  was 
run  to  earth  in  a  house  in  the  Potterrow.  The  papers 
he  had  in  his  possession,  infeftments  and  the  like, 
served  no  purpose  of  the  finders,  but  when  the  poor 
wretch  was  brought  face  to  face  with  the  rack,  he 
collapsed  entirely,  and  leading  Mr  Archibald  Douglas 
— Morton's  Jackal — to  his  lodgings,  drew  from  under 
the  seat  of  the  bed  a  silver  box.  This  was  delivered 
into  Morton's  hands  and  next  morning  opened  in 
the  presence  of  Athol,  Mar,  Glencairn,  Home, 
Sempill,  Sanquhar,  the  Laird  of  Tulliebardine  and 
Lethinoton.  The  contents  were  said  to  have  been 
"  sighted  "  by  those  present. 

Whether  the  letters  that  have  come  down  to  us 
are  the  same  as  were  then  sighted,  or  whether  these 
were  garbled,  changed  and  added  to,  is  not  the 
question  here.  It  is  certain  that  "some  testimony  in 
her  own  handwriting  "  of  her  complicity  in  the  king's 
murder  was  used  by  the  Lords  as  a  constraining  argu- 
ment in  compelling  Mary's  abdication.  They  kept 
the   letters    under    lock   and    key   and    the   dubious 


LOCH  LEVEN  165 

custody  of  Morton,  but  sent  the  report  of  them  or 
actual  copies  of  them  to  ruin  what  reputation  Mary 
might  still  have  at  the  courts  of  France  and  England. 

Elisabeth,  whatever  her  private  opinion  may  have 
been,  professed — and  it  is  to  her  honour — to  the  Spanish 
ambassador  her  disbelief  in  the  discovery  of  com- 
promising letters.  Indeed  at  this  juncture  Elisabeth 
was  Mary's  only  friend.  Mary  had  been  faithless  to 
her  church,  and  the  Pope,  the  fervent  Pius  V.,  would 
have  nothing  more  to  do  with  her  "unless  in  time 
to  come  he  should  see  better  signs  of  her  life  and 
religion  than  he  had  witnessed  in  the  past." 

At  the  court  of  France,  where  Mary  might  have 
looked  for  sympathy,  there  was  total  indifference  if 
not  a  spice  of  malicious  satisfaction  in  her 
downfall.  Martigues  alone,  the  gallant  Martigues 
who  had  starved  inside  Leith  in  1561,  the  husband 
of  an  early  friend  of  Mary,  offered  to  restore  her  to 
freedom  and  power  if  the  king  would  grant  him  three 
thousand  arquebusiers,  but  Catherine  remarked  sourly 
that  they  had  enough  irons  in  the  fire.  But  up  to  a 
certain  point  the  English  Queen  was  prepared  to 
interfere.  The  sanctity  of  kingship  had  been  out- 
raged in  a  sister  sovereign,  a  precedent  that 
made  Elisabeth  furious.  She  was  accustomed  to 
look  upon  the  Scottish  nobility  as  men  at  her 
devotion,  she  thought  that  she  had  only  to  scold 
them  for  their  rebellion  and  dictate  the  terms  on 
which  they  should  be  reconciled  to  their  sovereign. 
At  the  same  time  she  wrote  severe  but  protecting 
letters  to  her  cousin.  It  was  her  plan,  that  Mary, 
humble  and  grateful,  should  owe  everything  to  her 
magnanimous  rival. 

It  is  an  argument  of  her  good  faith  that  Elisabeth 


166  MARY  STUART 

chose  as  her  envoy  Sir  Nicholas  Throckmorton. 
Throckmorton  is  always  a  welcome  figure  in  the 
story  of  Mary,  for  in  the  company  of  her  Scottish 
nobles  one  loses  all  recollection  of  what  constitutes  a 
man  of  the  world  and  a  man  of  honour.  For  six 
weeks  prudently  and  courageously,  though  with  in- 
finite distaste  for  the  men  he  had  to  deal  with,  he 
worked  in  Mary's  interest. 

At  the  end,  if  he  effected  nothing  towards  her 
restoration,  he  was  soberly  convinced  that  it  had  been 
his  persistent  efforts  alone  that  had  saved  her  life. 

The  nobles  resolutely  refused  to  grant  him  access 
to  Mary,  yet  he  managed  to  have  a  jewel  conveyed  to 
her,  a  token  of  good  faith  from  Elisabeth. 

They  covered  their  delay  in  negotiating  with  him 
with  endless  excuses.  Once  it  was  a  fast  and  "  they 
must  first  seek  the  matters  of  God  and  take  counsel 
of  Him  who  could  direct  them "  before  they  could 
attend  to  business.  Lethington  used  to  come  con- 
fidentially to  Throckmorton's  lodgings,  and  with  a  great 
show  of  candour  gave  him  clearly  to  understand  that 
the  nobles  had  once  and  again  found  such  cold  comfort 
at  Elisabeth's  hands  that  they  were  slow  to  trust  her. 
France,  on  the  other  hand,  was  eager  for  the  old 
alliance  and  would  make  no  troublesome  conditions 
about  the  Queen. 

It  was  brought  home  to  Throckmorton  that  if 
Elisabeth  insisted  too  hotly  on  Mary's  liberation  it 
would  throw  Scotland  into  the  arms  of  France,  and 
would  be  the  signal  for  Mary's  death.  "In  case  you 
do,  on  the  Queen's  behalf  your  mistress,  press  this 
company  to  enlarge  the  Queen  my  sovereign  and  to 
suffer  you  to  go  to  her  ...  I  assure  you,  you  will  put 
the  Queen  my  mistress  in  great  jeopardy  of  her  life." 


LOCH  LEVEN  167 

Behind  the  nobles,  urging  them  on  and  really- 
dictating  the  policy,was  a  stubborn  and  vociferous  public 
opinion.  "  The  women  be  most  furious  and  impudent 
and  yet  the  men  be  mad  enough,"  Throckmorton  wrote. 
The  general  excitement  even  threatened  his  own  life. 
He  was  distinctly  preached  against  from  the  pulpit. 
The  ministers,  especially  Knox  and  Craig,  were  very 
austere.  "  They  preached  hot  cannons  against  her," 
is  Throckmorton's  vivid  phrase. 

Clear-cut  and  rigorous  fell  their  verdict  that  their 
Queen  "  hath  no  more  liberty  nor  privilege  to  commit 
murder  or  adultery  than  any  other  private  person, 
either  by  God's  laws  or  the  laws  of  the  realm." 
They  threatened  God's  judgment  on  the  country  if 
the  guilty  Queen  were  not  brought  to  punishment. 
There  was  a  hideous  old  Scottish  law  which  condemned 
a  wife  guilty  of  compassing  her  husband's  death  to  be 
burnt  alive.  Nor  was  this  law  a  dead  letter.  That 
very  autumn  in  Edinburgh  a  certain  Hamilton  was 
put  to  death  for  taking  his  brother's  life,  but  his  sister- 
in-law,  the  partner  of  his  passion  and  his  sin,  suffered 
death  by  fire.  Possibly,  even  in  the  case  of  the 
Queen,  the  preachers,  with  an  angry  populace  behind 
them,  might  have  clamoured  for  the  extreme  penalty. 

But  a  Council  on  which  sat  Morton,  Balfour  and 
Lethington  could  not  face  a  public  trial.  If  they 
had  testimony  in  her  own  hand  against  her,  she  had 
proof  that  meant  hanging  for  them.  Their  wisest 
course  was  so  to  work  upon  her  fears  as  to  force  her 
to  abdicate. 

In  the  first  weeks  she  had  in  her  terror  made  various 
offers.  She  would  retire  to  France  and  enter  a 
convent  or  live  with  her  grandmother  the  old  Duchess 
of  Guise,  she  would  resign  the  government  to  Murray 


168  MARY  STUART 

or  to  old  Chatelherault.  With  forlorn  dignity  she 
entreated  her  nobles,  if  they  would  not  treat  her  as 
their  Queen,  to  use  her  at  least  as  the  daughter  of  the 
king  whom  many  of  them  remembered  and  the  mother 
of  their  prince.  She  ends  with  a  pathetic  request 
that  an  embroiderer  may  be  sent  to  her.  She  had 
the  feminine  instinct  to  keep  crowding  fears  and 
torturing  memories  at  bay  by  the  small  familiar  art  of 
the  needle.  The  altar  cloth  she  worked  at  Loch 
Leven  is  still  in  preservation.  The  velvet  is  brittle 
and  the  silk  and  gold  thread  tarnished,  but  still  we  can 
touch  the  fietirs-de-lis  and  angels  of  her  shaping.  In 
one  of  her  letters  to  Sir  Robert  Melville  at  this 
anxious  time  she  asks  him  to  send  her  a  weight  of 
crimson  silk  and  silver  thread. 

Dejected  and  restless  as  she  might  be,  "the 
enchantment  whereby  men  are  bewitched"  was 
inseparable  from  Mary  and  independent  of  any  effort 
of  hers.  When  Lord  Ruthven,  presuming  on  her 
helplessness  and  forgetting  his  own  place  of  trust 
about  her  person,  dared  to  speak  to  her  of  love,  she 
treated  it  as  an  insult  and  complained  to  the  lady  of 
the  castle. 

Lord  Ruthven  was  removed ;  yet  it  was  he  who, 
with  Lord  Lindsay  and  Sir  Robert  Melville,  was  sent 
on  the  24th  of  July  to  extort  her  consent  to  the 
abdication.  Melville  contrived  to  secure  a  private 
interview  with  the  Queen,  before  the  arrival  of  his 
colleagues,  in  her  bedchamber  where  she  was  lying 
sick.  His  advice  was  honest  and  friendly.  Let  her 
sign  the  deed  of  abdication  for  the  sake  of  peace ; 
being  extorted  under  compulsion  such  consent  need 
not  bind  her  afterwards. 

That   strange,   variable   creature  Lethington  had 


LOCH  LEVEN  169 

sent  her  a  token,  an  enamel  representing  a  mouse 
freeing  a  lion  from  the  toils  with  this  inscription, 
"A  chi  basta  l'anima  non  mancano  le  forze."  One 
wonders  how  far  the  steady  affection  of  Mary  Fleming 
deflected  the  policy  of  her  restless  husband.  Her 
brother-in-law  Athol  and  the  Laird  of  Tulliebardine 
also  sent  tokens. 

To  the  politic  arguments  of  Melville  Mary  would 
not  yield,  but  when  Lindsay  in  a  "boisting"  humour 
threatened  to  have  her  dragged  out  of  bed  and  carried 
away  from  those  who,  from  gaolers,  suddenly  appeared 
to  her  as  protectors,  she  hastily  consented,  and,  sick 
and  dispirited,  signed  the  deed  in  the  presence  of  two 
notaries. 

Five  days  later  the  baby  prince  was  crowned  at 
Stirling.  With  gratuitous  brutality  the  Laird  of  Loch 
Leven  allowed  his  servants  to  celebrate  the  event 
with  bonfires  and  acclamation.  When  Mary  learned 
the  cause  of  the  rejoicings  she  laid  her  head  on  the 
table  and  wept  aloud  calling  on  God  to  avenge  her 
cause. 

The  time  was  now  ripe  for  the  return  of  the  Earl 
of  Murray.  The  news  of  his  sister's  defeat  and 
captivity  had  reached  him  at  the  end  of  June  in 
France.  He  may  have  persuaded  himself  that  he 
was  shocked  and  distressed  at  her  downfall.  By  his 
servant,  Nicholas  Elphinston,  he  sent  her  a  letter. 
Elphinston,  in  an  interview  with  Elisabeth,  conveyed 
the  impression  that  his  master  was  sending  comfort- 
able messages  to  his  sister.  Notwithstanding  this, 
Elisabeth  received  Murray  with  reproaches  when,  on 
his  way  north,  he  stopped  at  the  English  court.  He 
apologetically  assured  her  that  he  would  do  his  best 
for  his  own  Queen. 


170  MARY  STUART 

Few  writers  have  had  a  finer  mastery  of  the  difficult 
art  of  reporting  conversations  than  the  Spanish  am- 
bassador de  Silva ;  no  diplomatist  had  ever  more 
consummate  skill  in  making  men  involuntarily  turn 
themselves  inside  out.  He  took  Murray's  measure 
to  a  nicety.  By  his  tone  and  by  the  difficulties  he 
raised,  de  Silva  recognised  that,  though  the  Scotsman 
kept  returning  to  his  desire  to  help  the  Queen,  it  was 
not  altogether  his  intention.  Had  de  Silva  spoken  of 
Mary  as  guilty,  Murray  would  have  posed  as  her 
apologist.  The  acute  Spaniard  did  the  reverse.  He 
gave  Murray  the  gratifying  assurance  that  Mary's 
confessor,  when  he  visited  him  on  his  way  back  to 
France,  had  emphatically  asserted  her  innocence  of  all 
knowledge  of  the  murder.  This  was  too  much  for 
Murray.  He  burst  out  in  accusation  of  his  sister  and 
in  deep  confidence  gave  de  Silva  curious  and  particular 
details  of  a  letter  from  Mary  to  Bothwell  which  a 
friend  of  his  had  seen  in  Scotland.  As  reported,  this 
letter  differs  essentially  from  the  famous  Glasgow 
letter,  nor  was  it  ever  produced  in  evidence.  It 
contained  direct  proposals  for  the  poisoning  of  Darnley 
and  of  Lady  Bothwell,  and  alluded  to  a  long-matured 
plan  for  an  explosion  with  gunpowder.  Murray  may 
have  spoken  excitedly  and  from  a  half- remembered 
impression,  but  that  would  have  been  unlike  his  usual 
prudent  procedure.  He  may  have  been  deceived  by 
a  forged  letter  afterwards  rejected  as  too  crude.  De 
Silva  at  the  end  of  the  interview  was  satisfied  that 
Murray  would  do  little  for  Mary  and  much  for 
himself. 

In  spite  of  her  knowledge  of  him  and  his  ways  it 
took  a  final  experience  to  convince  Mary  that,  under 
her  brother's   cold  manner  and   affectation  of  blunt 


LOCH  LEVEN  171 

honesty,  there  was  neither  pity  nor  warmth  of  heart. 
She  had  counted  anxiously  on  his  return  without 
realising  what  she  expected  from  him.  He  arrived 
in  Edinburgh  on  the  nth  of  August,  and  though 
Throckmorton  thought  him  sincere  and  full  of  com- 
miseration for  his  sister,  he  saw  that  his  mind  was 
mainly  occupied  with  the  regency,  and  was  already 
calculating  with  what  show  of  decent  reluctance  he 
could  allow  it  to  be  forced  on  him.  He  belonged  to 
that  large  class  of  good  people  who  cannot  gratify 
their  heart's  desire  without  putting  a  colour  of  duty 
upon  it. 

But  for  Throckmorton's  persistence  he  would  have 
been  put  off  going  to  see  his  sister  by  the  unwilling- 
ness of  the  Lords  to  countenance  his  visit.  When 
finally  he  arrived  at  Loch  Leven,  Athol  and  Morton 
were  in  his  company.  But  Mary,  with  a  burst  of 
weeping,  led  him  apart  and  for  two  hours  they  talked 
till  supper-time,  Murray  torturing  his  sister  by  his 
reserve  and  ambiguity. 

In  all  her  humiliation  she  never  forgot  that  she 
was  a  Queen,  and  at  supper  reminded  him  that  he  had 
not  been  too  proud  to  hold  the  napkin  for  her.  It 
was  Murray  himself  who  described  to  Throckmorton 
the  poignant  and  painful  scene  that  followed, — Murray, 
the  confederate  of  Darnley's  murderers,  Morton, 
Lethington  and  Balfour ! 

"  After  supper,  every  one  being  retired,  they  con- 
ferred together  till  one  of  the  clock  after  midnight 
.  .  .  and  the  said  earl  did  plainly  and  without  dis- 
guising, discover  unto  the  Queen  all  his  opinion  of  her 
misgovernment  and  laid  before  her  all  such  disorders 
as  either  might  touch  her  conscience,  her  honour  or 
surety.     I   do  hear   that  he  behaved    himself  rather 


172  MARY  STUART 

like  a  ghostly  father  unto  her  than  like  a  counsellor. 
Sometimes  the  Queen  wept  bitterly,  sometimes  she 
acknowledged  her  unadvisedness.  .  .  .  Some  things 
she  did  confess  plainly — (it  is  Murray's  account  of 
course) — some  things  she  did  excuse,  some  she  did 
extenuate.  In  conclusion  the  Earl  of  Murray  left  her 
that  night  in  hope  of  nothing  but  God's  mercy,  willing 
her  to  seek  that  as  her  chiefest  refuge." 

It  gives  one  a  shiver  to  think  of  the  poor  soul 
creeping  away  to  bed  and  lying  wide-eyed  and 
horror  -  stricken  with  waking  visions  of  relentless 
judges  and  feverish,  broken  dreams  of  the  "fiery 
death." 

And  Murray  ?  He  who  would  venture  a  glimpse 
into  that  dark  and  subtle  mind  would  need  to  be 
deeply  versed  in  the  human  heart,  its  instinct  of  self- 
deception,  its  confused  interpretation  of  the  voice  of 
conscience,  its  ignorance  of  the  passions  and  desires 
that  are  impelling  it  along  its  course. 

Next  morning  Mary  sent  for  him  betimes,  and  now 
in  the  clear  daylight  he  appealed  less  to  her  fears. 
Her  life  he  thought  he  might  save ;  her  honour  he 
would  try  to  preserve ;  but  for  her  freedom,  she 
must  not  hope  for  it,  "  nor  was  it  good  for  her  to 
have  it." 

After  the  terrors  of  the  nisfht  these  meagre 
promises  seemed  a  new  gift  of  life,  of  the  life  which 
ran  so  full  and  strong  in  the  veins  of  this  beautiful 
woman  of  five  and  twenty.  She  took  her  brother  in 
her  arms  and  kissed  him,  and  begged  him  to  accept 
the  regency.  Murray  demurred  at  first,  he  demurred 
also  to  take  the  charge  of  her  jewels,  but  finally  he 
consented  to  both.  [The  jewels  provided  the  sinews  of 
war  against  Mary's  party  after  the  battle  of  Langside.] 


LOCH  LEVEN  173 

At  parting,  Mary  kissed  him  again  with  a  fresh  burst 
of  tears,  but  afterwards  when  the  immediate  terror 
was  removed  the  remembrance  of  his  reproaches  and 
injurious  language  "  cut  the  thread  of  love  and  credit 
betwixt  the  Oueen  and  him  for  ever." 

In  the  weeks  that  followed  Mary  came  to  herself 
again.  The  overmastering-  infatuation  for  Bothwell 
passed  away  like  an  evil  dream. 

She  had  held  to  him  at  the  imminent  risk  of  her 
own  life,  she  had  insisted  that  he  should  be  treated  no 
worse  than  she  herself.  But  while  she  had  dared 
everything  he  had  lacked  audacity  as  well  as  resource. 
He  had  skulked  in  the  north  with  Huntly  until  the 
latter,  realising  that  the  game  was  up,  wearied  of  his 
guest.  A  kinsman  of  Bothwell,  a  wicked  old  Bishop 
of  Moray,  well  over  eighty,  held  the  Castle  of  Spynie, 
and  thither  Bothwell  and  his  outlawed  "  lambs  "  drew 
to  a  hold.  The  illegitimate  sons  of  this  bishop,  law- 
less Hepburns  themselves,  resented  the  intrusion  and 
bribed  an  English  prisoner  to  murder  Bothwell,  but,  like 
a  wolf  at  bay,  he  turned  on  his  kinsmen,  slew  one  and 
turned  the  others  out  of  doors.  But  these  experiences 
had  convinced  him  that  life  and  livelihood  were  no 
longer  to  be  found  for  him  in  Scotland,  and  so  he 
sailed  with  his  band  to  take  possession  of  his  Dukedom 
of  the  Orkneys.  They  seized  two  ships  from  a  Bremen 
trader  in  the  island  and  planned  to  live  as  pirates  on 
the  high  seas.  In  September,  Grange,  the  only  man 
among  the  Confederates  whose  quarrel  was  with 
Bothwell  rather  than  with  Mary,  pursued  Bothwell 
and  almost  took  him  in  a  narrow  strait  between  the 
islands,  but  his  ship  ran  aground  and  Bothwell  escaped 
to  Denmark.  There,  being  shipwrecked,  he  was 
taken    prisoner   by   the   king,    languished    in  prison, 


174  MARY  STUART 

growing  gradually  mad  from  inactivity  and  vacuity 
and  so  passes  miserably  out  of  the  story. 

Practically  he  had  passed  out  of  Mary's  life  in 
the  autumn  of  1567  at  Loch  Leven.  After  all  the 
shattering  experiences  of  the  last  twelve  months,  Mary 
found  that  she  had  both  vitality  enough  to  live  again 
and  courage  to  reconstruct  her  broken  life. 

Though  she  was  cut  off  from  confession  and  the 
consolations  of  religion,  in  spirit  she  reconciled  herself 
with  the  Church,  that  great,  human-hearted,  hospitable 
Church  which  takes  the  sins  of  the  faithful  into  her 
own  responsibility  and  in  her  many  mansions  has 
room  for  saint  and  sinner  alike.  The  good  old  Arch- 
bishop of  Glasgow  in  Paris  had  much  consolation  in 
learning  that  "  she  had  begun  to  serve  God  better, 
with  more  devotion  and  greater  diligence  than  she 
had  been  wont  to  do  for  some  time  previously."  The 
news  was  gladly  received  by  those  who  loved  her  and 
loved  the  Church.  In  Madrid,  her  old  friend  Madame 
Elisabeth  assured  the  Nuncio  that  "she  had  ac- 
knowledged her  fault  and  become  quite  Catholic  and 
spiritual."  She  used  the  little  room  above  her  own 
as  her  oratory  :  it  was  the  apothecary's,  and  the  only 
corner  where  she  could  secure  privacy. 

For  within  the  narrow  castle  buildings  there  was 
crowded  life,  and  where  there  were  men  and  women 
with  hearts  to  be  won  and  imaginations  to  be  dazzled, 
there  Mary  had  still  a  kingdom. 

As  early  as  October  the  Lords  were  disconcerted, 
because  they  learned  that  she  had  "  won  the  favour 
and  goodwill  of  all  the  household,  as  well  zvornen  as 
men,"  a  curious  state  of  things  if  she  were  the  mere 
wanton  some  of  them  declared  her  to  be.  But  it  was 
never   otherwise    with    this    strangely   winning    and 


LOCH  LEVEN  175 

lovable  woman,  and  surely  it  is  by  the  qualities  of 
the  heart  that  a  woman  appeals  to  other  women. 
The  deeply  injured  old  Lady  Huntly  had  stood  by 
Mary  at  the  time  of  the  Riccio  murder.  The  Lady 
of  Loch  Leven,  Janet  Erskine,  her  father's  old  true 
love,  had  little  reason  to  love  Mary  of  Guise's  daughter, 
yet  by  the  end  of  September  among  those  "who  were 
drawn  from  their  former  ill-will  and  envy  to  pity," 
the  most  important  was  the  Regent's  mother.  Per- 
haps the  sorrows  of  the  beautiful,  younger  woman 
touched  a  heart  that  was  warm  and  human,  if  we 
may  judge  by  the  one  or  two  letters  of  the  lady's 
that  are  still  extant.  Perhaps  there  were  tricks  of 
eyebrow  and  of  voice  in  James'  daughter  that  brought 
back  memories  of  youth  and  all  its  love,  its  gladness 
and  its  grieving. 

In  spite  of  the  narrow  dwelling  and  her  inactive 
life,  Mary's  health  was  good,  her  graciousness  and 
high  spirit  invincible.  It  was  even  reported  that  she 
was  "  waxing  fat  and  making  show  of  mirth."  Once 
or  twice  she  seems  to  have  gone  out  fishing  in  a  boat 
with  the  Laird.  He,  it  is  evident,  never  came  under 
her  spell,  nor  Robert  the  next  brother,  but  two  young 
girls,  the  Laird's  daughter  and  niece,  who  actually 
shared  the  Queen's  room  with  her,  had  for  the 
beautiful  and  mysterious  stranger  that  admiring  de- 
votion which  is  the  romance  of  early  girlhood.  In 
the  Laird's  third  brother  George,  "bonnie  Geordie" 
as  he  was  nicknamed,  Mary  was  to  find  a  servant, 
as  ardent  and  chivalrous  as  any  hero  in  the  long 
romances  she  loved  to  read. 

Had  she  found  in  any  of  them  a  more  romantic 
situation  than  this,  of  a  beautiful  queen  imprisoned 
in  an  island-castle,  and  a  passionate,  silent  young  man 


176  MARY  STUART 

in  a  very  "fantasy  of  love"  watching  her  fair,  white 
fingers,  working  with  crimson  silk  and  silver  thread  ; 
a  slave  to  her  graciousness  and  fitful  mirth,  humble 
and  reverent  before  her  wrongs  and  sorrows,  above 
all,  ardent  to  effect  something  for  her  service  ?  The 
long,  slow,  fire-lit  evenings  of  a  Scottish  winter  when 
wild  geese  flew  screaming  overhead  and  the  wind 
whistled  round  the  Tower,  the  endless  dulness  of 
December  days  when  the  mist  lay  low  on  the  lake, 
hardly  hung  heavily  on  her  hands  when  within  she 
was  busy  securing  all  the  romantic  hearts  in  the  castle. 
A  mixed  group  they  were.  George  Douglas,  a  page, 
Willie  Douglas  (only  fourteen  years  old  but  full  of 
sense  and  spirit),  the  two  young  girls,  a  soft-hearted 
laundress  from  the  mainland,  and  the  noble  Lady 
herself. 

In  the  meantime  the  Scottish  nobility  were  busy 
securing  their  own  immunity  should  inquisition  be 
made  into  the  murder.  In  October  Drury  wrote,  "The 
writings  which  comprehend  the  names  and  consents 
of  the  chiefs  for  the  murdering  of  the  king  are  turned 
into  ashes,  the  same  not  unknown  to  the  Queen,  and  the 
same  which  concerns  her  part  kept  to  be  shown."  In 
a  Parliament  held  in  December,  all  the  action  of  the 
nobles  was  approved  on  the  plea  that  "all  was  in  the 
Queen's  default ;  diverse,  her  privy  letters,  written 
wholly  with  her  own  hand  and  sent  to  James,  Earl 
of  Bothwell,  proving  that  she  was  privy,  art  and  part, 
and  of  the  actual  device  and  deed  of  the  murder  of 
the  king." 

On  January  3rd,  three  of  Bothwell's  followers, 
Dalgleish,  Hay  of  Talla,  and  Hepburn  of  Bowton 
were  "justified."  Confessions  had  been  wrung  from 
all  three  incriminating  the  Queen.     In  Bowton's  con- 


LOCH  LEVEN  177 

fession  the  account  of  the  Craigmillar  Bond  shown 
to  him  by  Bothwell  was  carefully  burned  and  never 
appeared  at  the  examination  at  Westminster.  The 
fear  of  the  rack  had  influenced  Talla's  confession, 
but  in  the  hopeless,  fearless  freedom  of  the  scaffold 
he  openly  denounced  Huntly,  Argyle,  Lethington  and 
Balfour  as  the  contrivers  of  the  murder.  So  great 
was  the  popular  indignation,  that  the  four  men  named 
suddenly  left  Edinburgh. 

Murray  was  finding  the  Regency  difficult  beyond 
his  expectations.  He  had,  as  Throckmorton  re- 
cognised, intended  to  rule  the  country  less  like  a 
modern  statesman  "  than  as  one  who  had  led  Israel," 
to  establish  the  reign  of  righteousness  after  the  fashion 
of  Knox.  To  do  this  in  alliance  with  men  like 
Morton,  Lethington  and  Balfour  involved  a  con- 
stant compromise  which  became  intolerably  irksome. 
If  Mary  were  at  liberty  but  consenting  to  his 
Regency  it  would  make  him  independent  of  those 
allies. 

In  August,  he  had  left  her  in  hope  of  nothing 
but  God's  mercy ;  in  the  following  March  "  he  was 
making  fair  weather  towards  her,"  and  had  a  startling 
proposition  to  make.  It  is  incredible  that  he  ever 
named  Morton  to  her  as  a  possible  husband,  but  he 
certainly  proposed  that  she  should  marry  Lord 
Methven,  a  blameless  young  nobleman  and  a  Stuart. 
To  his  amazement  Mary  suggested  his  own  brother 
George  as  a  possible  husband.  The  old  Lady  may 
have  lent  herself  to  this  wild  scheme ;  Mary  com- 
plained to  her  of  Murray's  lack  of  kindness  to  his 
brother.  She  can  hardly  have  been  serious,  at  any- 
rate  not  deliberate,  but  she  would  have  bought 
liberty  at  any  price,  and  in  a  situation  as  troubled 

M 


178  MARY  STUART 

as  hers,  excitement,  sensibility,  gratitude  and  sheer 
desperation  will  play  riot  in  judgment  and  emotions. 

By  Murray's  orders  young  George  was  banished 
from  the  island,  but  continued  to  be  active  as  Mary's 
agent  among  the  scattered  elements  of  her  party. 

What  party  had  she  to  trust  to  ?  To  trust  to, 
none  ;  for  all  were  ready  to  sell  her  at  a  moment's 
notice  if  it  served  their  interest.  The  Hamiltons 
had  held  aloof  from  the  Regent  and  his  confederates. 
Tulliebardine  assured  Throckmorton  that,  in  the 
anxious  days  of  July  and  August,  they  would  have 
joined  the  Confederate  Lords  if  they  had  put  the 
Queen  to  death,  and  recognised  their  rights.  With 
a  bastard  Stuart  all  powerful  as  Regent,  their  tepid 
loyalty  had  shifted  back  to  the  Queen.  The  un- 
alterably faithful  Setons,  Flemings,  Livingstons,  were 
ready  to  rise  at  the  first  signal,  Lord  Herries  was 
restless  in  the  south,  Argyle  and  Huntly  tentatively 
reconciled  to  the  government,  might  still  be  expected 
to  declare  for  the  Queen  if  occasion  offered. 

"  The  Queen's  liberty  by  favour,  stealth  or  force, 
is  shortly  to  be  looked  for,"  Drury  wrote  at  the  end 
of  March. 

Early  in  April  an  attempt  to  escape  almost 
succeeded.  A  laundress  from  Kinross  had  been 
rowed  to  the  island  with  her  basket  of  clean  linen. 
On  the  return  journey  the  good  woman  sat  quite 
silent  with  her  hood  drawn  low  over  her  face.  Some- 
thing in  her  bearing  roused  the  suspicion  of  one  of 
the  boatmen  who  tried  to  peer  below  the  hood.  In- 
stinctively the  laundress  raised  her  hands  to  shield 
her  face.  Alas  !  for  the  longue  et  gresle  et  ddlicate 
main  that  Ronsard  had  kissed  and  sung !  So  fair 
a  hand  belonged  to  one  woman  only  in  Scotland.     In 


LOCH  LEVEN  179 

spite  of  tears  and  entreaties  the  boatmen  put  back 
to  the  island  but,  to  their  honour,  did  not  betray  her. 

When  on  the  2nd  of  May  a  second  attempt  was 
successful,  it  was  owing  to  the  pluck  and  ingenuity 
of  little  Willie  Douglas. 

His  preparations  were  made  with  a  secrecy  and 
completeness  unusual  in  a  conspirator  of  fourteen. 
He  had  previously  scuttled  all  the  boats  but  one. 
Mary,  in  cloak  and  muffler,  awaited  the  signal  in  an 
upper  room.  The  Laird  was  at  supper,  the  dusk  was 
gradually  deepening  in  the  hall.  All  the  house  keys 
lay  beside  him  on  the  table ;  the  page  while  serving 
his  master,  deftly  dropped  a  napkin  over  them  and 
noiselessly  swept  them  off  the  table.  The  old  Lady 
we  are  told  "was  of  the  counsel"  and  probably  kept 
her  son  engaged  while  two  silent  cloaked  figures, 
moving  swiftly,  followed  the  eager  boy  to  the  landing- 
place.  He  had  the  coolness  to  lock  each  door  as  they 
passed  out,  and,  once  in  the  boat,  dropped  the  keys 
into  the  lake. 

Anxious  friends  were  on  the  watch  in  the  little 
village  of  Kinross.  John  Beaton,  faithful  like  all 
his  race,  a  brother  of  the  Archbishop  in  Paris, 
the  Laird  of  Riccarton,  a  friend  of  Bothwell,  and  the 
devoted  George  himself.  He  had  collected  all  the 
Laird's  horses.  To  avoid  delay  one  had  been  provided 
with  a  side  saddle  for  Mary,  but  she  refused  to  start 
till  she  had  seen  the  boy  Willie  mounted  also.  Four 
miles  further  they  met  Lord  Seton,  and,  before  they 
reached  the  north  shore  of  the  Firth,  Lord  Claude 
Hamilton  and  a  small  force.  It  was  a  wild,  exhilarat- 
ting  ride  with  the  sweet  chill  spring  wind  in  her  face 
and  liberty  and  hope  in  every  throb  of  her  heart. 
That  night  they  crossed  the  Firth  and  never  halted 


180  MARY  STUART 

till  they  reached  Lord  Seton's  house  at  Niddry.  Even 
then  they  rested  but  an  hour  or  two.  Mary  de- 
spatched Beaton  with  despatches  to  the  courts  of 
France  and  England  and  secret  messages  to  the 
Spanish  ambassador,  while  Riccarton  rode  to  Dunbar 
to  try  and  secure  the  fortress  for  the  Queen.  Then 
to  horse  again  and  across  Scotland  to  Hamilton,  where 
immediately  an  astonishing  number  of  noblemen 
flocked  to  join  her.  Lord  Herries  in  his  memoir  may 
well  say,  "  The  Queen,  an  active  lady,  was  herself 
the  chief  means  of  her  escape  !  " 

Unfortunately  it  needed  more  than  a  woman's 
ardour  and  active  brain  to  turn  escape  into  victory. 
Mary's  party  lacked  neither  numbers  nor  credit  nor 
devotion,  but  they  were  destitute  of  brains.  The 
faithful  Catholic  following,  Setons,  Livingstons, 
Flemings,  the  Protestant  Herries,  had  the  same 
qualities  which  made  later  Jacobitism  the  most  loyal 
and  luckless  of  parties.  The  Hamiltons  were  an  un- 
distinguished group,  the  only  one  among  them  of  any 
ability,  the  bastard  Archbishop,  carried  weight  with 
no  one  from  lack  of  disinterestedness.  Mary  had 
never  had  confidential  relations  with  their  house  and 
had  small  grounds  to  trust  them,  but  friendships  grow 
rapidly  in  dire  straits.  In  her  proclamations  she  calls 
"  the  good  Duke  of  Chatelherault "  her  dearest 
father. 

Murray  was  at  Glasgow  when  he  heard  of  his 
sister's  escape  and  promptly  summoned  the  lieges  to 
defend  the  young  king's  government.  Meantime  at 
Hamilton  a  counter  proclamation  was  being  concocted, 
the  most  singular  piece  of  unrestrained  vituperation 
ever  woman  set  her  hand  to. 

This   is    no    carefully   worded    appeal   calculated 


LOCH  LEVEN  181 

prudently  to  excite  sympathy  with  Mary's  wrongs 
and  indignation  against  her  enemies ;  it  is  rather  the 
gusty  outbreak  of  a  woman  heedless  of  everything 
but  the  relief  of  crying  aloud  in  the  ears  of  the  world 
her  hate  and  intolerable  sense  of  wrong. 

It  is  mere  violence  when  she  writes  of  her  enemies 
as  "Hell-hounds,"  "bloody  tyrants  without  souls  or 
fear  of  God,"  "  mansworn  ethnics,"  but  there  is  a 
personal  sting  when  she  writes  of  Murray.  He  had 
been  at  the  pains  of  bringing  home  her  sins  to  her ; 
here  she  recklessly  lays  all  the  troubles  of  her  reign 
at  his  door.  The  downfall  of  the  House  of  Huntly, 
the  estrangement  between  herself  and  Darnley,  the 
murder,  even  the  ravishment  by  Bothwell,  are  traced 
to  the  suggestion  of  the  "  spurious  bastard — although 
named  our  brother — whom  we  promovit  from  a  re- 
ligious monk  to  earl  and  lord."  It  is  improbable 
that  this  writing  was  published,  certainly  another  and 
a  far  more  moderate  proclamation  was  current. 

The  proper  policy  for  Mary  was  to  make  for  the 
fortress  of  Dumbarton  and  there  wait  till  her  party 
should  solidify  at  home  and  help  come  from  abroad. 
Between  Hamilton  and  Dunbar  lay  Glasgow  where 
Murray  had  collected  his  forces.  His  army  was 
smaller  than  the  mixed  feudal  band  that  held  for 
Mary,  but  he  had  artillery  and  he  had  knowledge  of 
warfare.  Moreover  Kirkcaldy  of  Grange,  the  best 
soldier  in  Scotland,  commanded  his  troops. 

On  the  13th  of  May  the  two  armies  met  at 
Langside.  From  Cathcart  Knowe  Mary  watched  the 
battle  close  at  hand.  She  heard  the  artillery  duel 
that  opened  the  struggle,  she  may  have  seen  the  fierce 
encounter  on  the  hill-top  and  the  disordered  down 
rush  of  the  Hamiltons  as  Kirkcaldy  drove  them  back 


182  MARY  STUART 

on  the  main  body.  Argyle  who  was  leading  Mary's 
forces  collapsed  in  an  unexplained  fashion.  There 
is  no  reason  to  suspect  him  of  treachery,  but  he  had 
either  some  sort  of  fit  or  a  sudden  failure  of  nerve  at 
the  critical  moment. 

When  Mary  knew  that  the  day  was  lost,  she,  for 
the  first  and  last  time  in  her  life,  gave  way  to  panic. 
She  could  not  face  the  prospects  of  fresh  interviews 
with  Murray.  Behind  him  she  saw  prison  gates 
closing  in  again  upon  her  and  judgment  and  the  "fiery 
death";  she  turned  her  horse  and  fled  precipitately. 
For  sixty  miles  she  rode  with  hardly  a  break,  south- 
ward into  Lord  Herries'  country.  Sour  milk  and  oat- 
meal at  a  peasant's  door,  a  few  hours  of  sleep  on  a 
clay  floor  were  all  the  refreshment  she  allowed  herself 
till  they  reached  the  northern  shore  of  the  Solway. 

Some  miles  inland,  in  a  little  valley,  far  withdrawn, 
lay  the  Abbey  of  Dundrennan,  as  solitary  a  home  of 
peace  as  the  Monastery  on  the  Lake  of  Monteith 
that  had  sheltered  her  childhood.  Thither,  startling 
the  simple  inmates  with  the  noise  and  terrors  of  the 
outer  world,  rushed  the  fugitives  on  their  wearied 
horses,  but  only  for  a  moment's  breathing  space. 

Whither  could  Mary  turn?  Lord  Herries  under- 
took to  keep  her  in  safety  till  her  friends  could  gather 
to  a  head  or  her  enemies  fall  out  with  one  another. 
After  a  week  or  two  she  might  retire  on  Dumbarton 
or  take  ship  for  France. 

France  was  far  off,  her  ties  to  her  old  friends  had 
slackened.  She  could  count  on  no  welcome  from 
the  Cardinal  if  her  presence  embarrassed  his  position, 
her  mother-in-law  would  look  sourly  on  a  banished 
suppliant  of  tarnished  reputation.  Such  a  contrast 
with  her  former  self  was  more  than  she   could  face. 


LOCH  LEVEN  183 

On  the  other  hand,  in  spite  of  all  experience,  Mary 
again  and  again  fell  into  the  delusion  that  she  could 
trade  either  upon  Elisabeth's  generosity  or  her  fears. 
And  indeed  the  sympathy  which  Elisabeth  had  gone 
out  of  her  way  to  lavish  on  Mary  during  her  captivity 
justified  the  most  sanguine  views.  At  this  very  time 
a  messenger  from  the  English  Queen  was  on  his  way 
to  congratulate  Mary  on  her  escape. 

England  was  near,  visible  across  the  Solway,  and 
seemed  to  offer  an  asylum  from  the  nightmare  of 
recapture  by  Murray.  She  wrote  to  her  cousin  from 
Dundrennan,  but  too  feverish  to  rest,  refused  to  wait 
for  an  answer  and  insisted  on  embarking  on  the 
following  day  for  England.  She  sailed  in  a  fisher- 
man's boat  accompanied  by  Herries,  George  Douglas 
and  some  sixteen  more  of  her  friends. 

In  one  of  her  sentimental  moods  Elisabeth,  at 
a  later  time,  compared  Mary  to  a  bird  which,  to 
escape  the  pursuit  of  the  hawk,  had  fled  to  her  feet 
for  protection.  A  wild  bird  beating  its  wings  against 
the  bars  of  a  pitiless  cage  is  hardly  a  happy  symbol 
of  royal  protection.  Could  Mary  have  foreseen  the 
slow  sap  of  years  of  captivity,  and  at  the  end  the 
very  fate  from  which  she  was  fleeing,  how  thankfully 
would  she  have  turned  back  to  try  with  a  small 
faithful  following  the  last  extremity  of  battle ! 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE    CONFERENCE    AT    YORK 
June  1568 — January  1569 

NO  sins  nor  crimes  of  which  we  may  be  guilty 
come  home  to  roost  so  rapidly  and  inevitably 
as  our  insincere  sympathies,  our  cheap  offers  of 
benevolence.  Elisabeth  had  sent  a  jewel  to  Mary 
at  Loch  Leven  as  a  pledge  of  her  faithful  friendship, 
she  had  committed  herself  to  expressions  of  warm 
sympathy  for  a  sister  sovereign  outraged  by  her 
subjects.  Now,  on  the  top  of  news  from  Scotland 
of  the  defeat  and  flight  of  the  Queen,  came  an  urgent, 
confident  letter  from  Mary  herself  dated  Dundrennan 
Abbey,  followed  next  day  by  another  written  from 
Workington  in  Cumberland.  She  wrote  without 
misgiving  as  to  one  already  engaged  on  her  side. 
She  brings  a  string  of  accusations  against  her 
enemies,  astutely  making  Elisabeth  responsible  by 
describing  them  as  those  "  whom  I  pardoned  at  your 
request."  She  longs  to  pour  out  the  story  of  her 
wrongs  in  Elisabeth's  presence,  and  urges  that  she 
may  be  sent  for  at  once  :  "  for  I  am  in  a  piteous 
condition  not  merely  for  a  queen  but  for  a  simple 
gentlewoman.  For  I  possess  nothing  in  the  world 
out  what  I  stand  up  in." 

It  is  the  French  ambassador  who  describes,  not 
without  a  touch  of  humour,  Elisabeth's  reception  of 
this  letter.  She  was  conscious  that,  as  she  said,  "  all 
the  eyes  of  Christendom  were  on  her,"  and  that  she 

184 


THE  CONFERENCE  AT  YORK       185 

ran  the  risk  of  calumny  whatever  course  she  took. 
Her  first  impulse  of  generous  sympathy  was  pro- 
bably genuine,  though  when  she  declared  that  she 
meant  to  receive  Mary  in  accordance  with  her  former 
grandeur,  and  not  her  present  fortune,  she  must  have 
known  that  she  was  safe  to  offer  what  Cecil  and 
Bedford  would  never  have  suffered  her  to  perform. 
The  Frenchman  adds  that  he  shrewdly  suspects 
that  if  the  two  queens  were  together  eight  days  their 
rival  beauty  and  favour  would  turn  friendship  into 
envy  and  jealousy.  He  adds,  that  when  he  saw 
Elisabeth  again  her  sympathy  had  taken  the  safe 
form  of  regretting  effusively  all  she  was  unable  to 
do  for  her  cousin.  What  she  said  of  the  Scottish 
Queen  "  turned  rather  to  accusation  than  to  her 
defence." 

Meanwhile,  impatient  as  she  might  be  for 
Elizabeth's  answer,  Mary  was  enjoying  a  triumph 
of  sympathy  and  partisanship. 

The  conservative  North  had  remained  Catholic. 
All  the  great,  landed  houses  were  connected  by  blood 
or  marriage,  all  were  knit  together  by  common 
memories  of  the  Pilgrimage  of  Grace  and  by  devout 
adherence  to  the  Church  of  Rome.  If  outwardly 
loyal  to  Elisabeth,  they  despised,  distrusted  and 
feared  the  new  men  like  Cecil  and  Bedford  who 
guided  her  policy.  Crowds  of  these  country  gentle- 
men flocked  to  welcome  Mary,  first  at  Workington  and 
then  at  Carlisle,  whither  by  Elisabeth's  orders,  the  High 
Sheriff,  Lowther,  had  conducted  her  with  all  due  honour. 

She  received  them  all  into  her  presence,  dressed, 
it  would  appear,  in  the  travel-stained  habit  in  which 
she  had  ridden  from  Langside,  but  with  all  her  in- 
alienable charm   and  greatness.      It    was    solace  and 


186  MARY  STUART 

excitement  to  her  to  pour  out  the  tale  of  her  wrongs 
and  her  innocence  to  listeners  prejudiced  in  her 
favour. 

The  greatest  among  them,  the  Earl  of  Northum- 
berland, was  anxious  to  remove  her  to  his  own  house, 
but  this  Lowther  had  the  prudence  to  resist. 

The  renewed  confidence  that  Mary  drew  from  all 
this  show  of  devotion  did  not  dispose  her  to  submit 
patiently  to  what  course  it  might  be  Elisabeth's 
pleasure  to  take  with  her.  She  had  the  fatal 
feminine  habit  of  arranging  in  imagination  both 
events  and  other  people's  actions  to  suit  her  own 
wishes.  She  pictured  herself,  a  beautiful  and  inno- 
cent suppliant,  repeating  the  tale  that  so  powerfully 
moved  these  northern  squires,  at  the  feet  of  a  com- 
placent Elisabeth,  and  firing  English  courtiers  and 
foreign  ambassadors  with  an  eloquent  tale  of  her 
wrong's. 

Her  disappointment  was  poignant,  her  indigna- 
tion bitter,  when  Elisabeth's  answer  finally  came. 
Warm  expressions  of  sympathy  and  confidence  were 
worthless,  since  they  only  preluded  regrets  that  it 
was  impossible  for  the  English  Queen  to  receive  her 
cousin  till  she  had  cleared  herself  from  sinister  reports 
connecting  her  with  her  husband's  murder,  reports 
which  Elisabeth  affected  indeed  to  disbelieve,  but 
which,  in  the  meantime,  placed  a  barrier  between 
her  own  immaculate  virtue,  and  Mary's  damaged 
reputation. 

The  bearers  of  this  crushing  reply  were  two  of 
the  most  important  noblemen  in  the  kingdom,  Lord 
Scrope,  warden  of  the  West  Marches,  and  Sir  Francis 
Knollys,  Elisabeth's  kinsman  on  the  Bullen  side. 

It  would  be  hard  to  find  at  any  period  of  English 


THE  CONFERENCE  AT  YORK       187 

history  a  finer  type  than  Sir  Francis  Knollys,  of 
what  we  proudly  claim  to  be  an  English  gentleman. 
He  was  deeply  engaged  in  public  affairs,  and  brought 
to  these  perfect  disinterestedness,  a  clear  judgment, 
patience,  and  a  constant  preference  for  plain  dealing. 
For  six  months  he  had  the  task,  to  him  most  dis- 
tasteful, of  being  Mary's  keeper.  During  that  time 
he  was  in  anxiety  about  his  wife's  health,  and  vexed 
with  the  constant  cross  of  Elisabeth's  servants,  lack 
of  necessary  funds,  yet  he  never  failed  in  courtesy, 
patience  and  cheerfulness.  He  read  Mary's  character 
clearly,  doing  full  justice  to  her  great  qualities.  On 
his  arrival  at  Carlisle  on  the  28th  May,  he  describes 
her  thus  :  "  We  found  her  in  her  answers  to  have  an 
eloquent  tongue,  a  discreet  head,  a  stout  courage  and 
a  liberal  heart."  And  a  little  later  he  exclaims, 
"  Surely  this  princess  is  a  notable  woman !  "  He  is 
struck  by  her  naturalness,  her  indifference  to  ceremony, 
"beyond  acknowledging  her  royal  estate";  her  high 
spirit,  "  she  delights  to  hear  of  hardiness  and  valour, 
approving  all  approved  hardy  men  of  her  country, 
even  though  they  be  among  her  enemies,  and  not 
concealing  cowardice  of  friends."  Mary  tried  her 
fascination  upon  the  elderly  man ;  he  recognised  the 
fact  with  a  quiet  humour  which  proved  his  security. 
"  And  surely  she  is  a  rare  woman,  for  as  no  flattery 
can  lightly  abuse  her,  so  no  plain  speech  seemeth 
to  offend  her  if  she  think  the  speaker  thereof  an 
honest  man ;  and  by  this  means  I  would  make  you 
believe,  she  thinks  me  an  honest  man  ! "  When,  from 
policy,  Mary  was  affecting  willingness  to  be  converted 
to  Anglican  usages,  Knollys  enjoyed  being  her  in- 
structor without  having  too  serious  a  belief  in  her 
good  faith.     He   had  been   ill  of  the  gout  when  he 


188  MARY  STUART 

wrote,  "for  recovery  I  have  wanted  no  princely 
courtesy,  nor  princely  medicine,  nor  princely  music, 
but  the  music  was  singing  of  Psalms  to  the 
virginals." 

One  little  incident  must  have  been  humiliating  to 
Knollys,  both  as  a  well-bred  man  and  as  Elisabeth's 
kinsman.  Mary  was,  as  we  have  seen,  destitute  of 
clothes  and  money  and  possibly  Carlisle  was  ill  supplied 
with  cloth  merchants  and  mantua-makers  ;  at  anyrate 
she  had  applied  to  Elisabeth  to  supply  her  needs. 
For  the  simplest  gentlewoman  in  her  train  Mary  at 
need  would  have  turned  out  all  her  stores.  Knollys 
was  present  when  the  parcel  sent  from  one  queen  to 
the  other  was  opened.  It  contained  two  torn  shifts, 
two  small  pieces  of  velvet  and  two  pairs  of  shoes. 
Mary's  "silence  argued  scorn  rather  than  gratitude," 
and  Knollys  deeply  mortified  could  only  mutter 
that  the  maid  who  packed   the  things   had  made  a 

mistake. 

When  Mary  first  realised  the  disappointment  of 
all  her  hopes,  the  tone  of  her  letters  changed  at  once 
to  indignant  upbraiding.  She  had  chosen  Elisabeth 
for  the  honourable  distinction  of  being  the  restorer  of 
a  queen,  but  if  Elisabeth  refused  such  a  chance  let 
her  permit  Mary  to  depart  to  other  princes  who  would 
gladly  take  up  her  cause,  "  for,  thank  God,  I  am  not 
so  destitute  of  friends." 

Simultaneously  with  the  arrival  of  Scrope  and 
Knollys  she  had  sent  her  own  envoys,  Fleming  and 
Herries,  to  court.  Herries  to  advocate  her  cause  with 
Elisabeth  and  Fleming  to  pass  on  to  France. 

Not  unnaturally,  Elisabeth  refused  to  allow  Fleming 
to  leave  the  country.  Mary  restored  to  her  throne  by 
French  soldiers  and  Scotland  once  more  at  the  devo- 


THE  CONFERENCE  AT  YORK        189 

tion  of  France  was  too  dangerous  a  prospect  for  the 
English  government.  The  refusal  galled  Mary  and 
showed  her  perhaps  her  helplessness  in  the  trap  into 
which  she  had  stepped  inadvertently. 

Herries  was  hardly  a  prudent  ambassador,  he  took 
up  the  same  lofty  position  as  Mary ;  if  Elisabeth 
would  not  help  his  mistress,  they  would  apply  to 
other  princes,  to  the  Pope.  "  The  Pope  !  "  repeated 
Protestant  Bedford  in  horror.  "  Aye  or  to  the  Grand 
Turk,"  answered  the  boastful  Scotsman. 

Mary  demanded  that  she  should  be  heard  in 
Elisabeth's  presence  in  her  own  vindication.  From 
Scotland  Murray  offered  to  enter  himself  a  prisoner 
to  Elisabeth,  if  he  failed  to  prove  his  sister's  guilt  and 
the  righteousness  of  her  deposition.  Here  was  a 
chance  for  Elisabeth  to  declare  herself  arbitrator 
between  them,  and  so  to  hold  both  at  her  pleasure. 

At  the  end  of  June  Middlemore  was  despatched 
to  Scotland  to  bid  Murray  suspend  hostilities.  He 
was  to  take  Carlisle  on  his  way  north  and  explain  to 
Mary  Elisabeth's  plan  concerning  her.  There  was  no 
courtliness  nor  sympathy  in  Middlemore  to  soften  the 
harshness  of  the  message  he  brought.  He  spoke  of 
"  trial  being  made  of  her  innocency,"  and  referred  to 
Elisabeth  as  "the  judge"  between  her  and  her  subjects. 
She  would  admit  no  judge  but  God,  Mary  retorted 
in  passionate  indignation,  nor  could  any  take  upon 
themselves  to  judge  her ;  she  knew  her  estate  well 
enough  ;  of  her  own  will  she  would  allow  her  sister  to 
judge  her  cause,  but  only  if  she  were  admitted  to  her 
presence. 

No  experience  ever  shook  Mary's  conviction  that 
kings  were  above  judgment.  Moreover  she  had  come 
to  look  upon  herself  as  innocent  of  the  crime  imputed 


190  MARY  STUART 

to  her  by  constantly  dwelling  on  the  treachery  and 
hypocrisy  of  those  who  had  shared  the  sin  and  now 
were  the  accusers.  She  held  like  an  amulet  the  in- 
criminating paper  Bothwell  had  given  her  at  Carberry 
Hill.  "  Desire  my  good  sister  the  Queen,"  she  said  to 
Middlemore,  "  to  write  that  Lethington  and  Morton 
(who  be  two  of  the  wisest,  and  most  able  of  them 
to  say  most  against  me)  may  come  and  then  let  me  be 
there  in  her  presence,  face  to  face  to  hear  their  accusa- 
tions and  to  be  heard  how  I  can  make  my  purgation  ; 
but  I  think  Lethington  would  be  very  loth  of  that 
commission." 

Meantime  Herries  had  succeeded  in  wringing 
terms  from  Elisabeth  which  he  delusively  believed  to 
be  favourable.  The  real  question  of  Mary's  guilt  or 
innocence  was  of  no  moment  to  any  one  ;  the  whole 
question  turned  on  how  much  it  would  be  judicious  to 
prove  against  her.  Herries  was  among  the  most 
devoted  of  Mary's  friends,  yet  no  enemy  could  have 
struck  a  more  fatal  blow  at  her  reputation  than  he 
did  by  an  impulsive  remark.  Elisabeth  disclaimed 
all  idea  of  being  her  cousin's  judge.  She  effected  to 
believe  that  Mary's  subjects  could  have  no  grounds  for 
the  accusations  against  her.  "  But  madame  if  it  should 
appear  otherwise — which  God  forbid  ?  "  The  amaz- 
ing part  is  that  Herries  repeated  this  remark  to  Mary 
with  no  explanation  nor  apology  !  Nor  had  it  any 
effect  on  Elisabeth.  Even  in  such  a  case  she  pledged 
herself  to  protect  her  cousin's  honour  and  safety. 

The  terms  she  offered  her  cousin  by  Herries  were 
perfectly  distinct.  Mary's  subjects  were  to  be  brought 
up  for  judgment  for  their  disloyal  and  rebellious  con- 
duct. "  Even  if  they  allege  some  reason  for  so  doing 
(which    her    Highness    thinks    they   cannot   do)    her 


THE  CONFERENCE  AT  YORK        191 

Highness  would  set  this  queen  in  her  seat  condition- 
ally, the  lords  continuing  in  honour  and  estate."  If 
they  were  not  able  to  allege  sufficient  reasons  Mary 
was  to  be  restored  unconditionally,  if  need  be  by  force. 
Believing  herself  fully  safeguarded  Mary  made  the 
mistake  of  consenting  to  Elisabeth's  conditions. 

Murray  also  had  to  be  reassured  before  committing 
his  cause  to  Elisabeth's  judgment.  To  him  the  con- 
ditions ran  quite  differently,  "If  her  guilt  be  plainly 
proved,  her  majesty  would  think  her  unworthy  of  a 
kingdom  ;  if  there  be  only  suspicions,  her  majesty  would 
have  it  considered  how  she  might  be  restored  without 
danger  of  relapse." 

Behind  Elisabeth  was  Cecil,  determined  that, 
whether  proved  guilty  or  not,  Mary  should  not  be 
suffered  to  escape  to  work  mischief  against  his  mistress 
and  her  government. 

As  the  autumn  weeks  passed  by,  it  was  torture  to 
Mary  to  hear  of  her  partisans  in  Scotland  besieged  in 
their  castles,  despoiled  of  their  lands,  forfeited  in 
Parliament.  Both  sides  had  undertaken  to  keep  a 
truce,  but  Murray  on  the  pretext  of  repressing  disorder, 
and  Mary's  party  on  the  plea  of  self-defence,  kept  up 
a  cruel  internecine  warfare.  It  cut  Mary  to  the  quick. 
"  They  break  down  the  houses  of  my  servants  and  I 
cannot  make  it  up  to  them,  the  masters  are  hung  and 
I  can  do  nothing,  and  yet  they  remain  faithful  to  me." 
Mary  was  a  prince  in  all  points  save  in  the  proverbial 
matter  of  ingratitude. 

In  the  first  week  of  October  the  Commission  of 
Inquiry  met  at  York. 

There  is  no  more  complicated  tangle  in  history 
than  the  story  of  this  Conference ;  a  tangle  of  secret 
motives,  of  crossing  interests,  of  conflicting  and  lying 


192  MARY  STUART 

evidence.  No  one,  except  possibly  two  of  the  English 
commissioners,  Sussex  and  Sadler,  even  wished  for  a 
clear  issue.  The  third,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  went 
into  the  conference  deeply  pledged  to  Mary.  His 
sister,  Lady  Scrope,  was  at  the  time  Mary's  hostess  at 
Bolton  and  had  assured  her  of  her  brother's  good-will ; 
the  idea  had  even  been  mooted  of  a  marriage  between 
them. 

We  have  seen  how  wavering  was  Lord  Herries' 
belief  in  Mary's  innocence  ;  the  other  most  important 
of  her  commissioners,  Bishop  Leslie,  was  equally 
sceptical ;  it  was  the  object  of  both  to  work  for  a  com- 
promise and  a  general  hushing-up  of  evidence. 

Murray  came  to  the  Conference  with  entire  dis- 
belief in  Elisabeth's  good  faith.  He  had  no  intention 
of  sparing  Mary,  her  dishonour  was  the  security  of 
his  position  as  Regent ;  but  he  was  reluctant  to  break 
with  her  completely.  Elisabeth  might  change  her 
policy  and  force  back  on  Scotland  a  Queen  irreconcil- 
ably estranged  from  her  brother.  If  little  James  died 
he  might  continue  to  hold  the  Regency,  as  it  were,  for 
Mary,  but  if  she  were  so  disgraced  as  to  be  as  good  as 
non-existent,  the  crown  would  pass  to  the  Hamiltons. 

Even  more  delicate  and  full  of  danger  was  the 
position  of  Lethington.  Mary  had  "  that  in  black  and 
white  that  would  hang  Lethington  by  the  neck,"  and 
he  knew  it.  A  compromise,  with  Mary  safely  bestowed 
in  England  and,  if  possible,  creditably  married  and 
reconciled  to  himself,  such  was  the  subtle  and  difficult 
plan  Lethington  was  working  for  by  methods  tortuous 
and  ingenious.  Morton  was  in  the  same  case  as 
Lethington,  but  he  had  a  face  of  brass  and  meant  to 
bear  down  Mary's  accusations  by  the  weight  of  those 
fatal  letters  of  which  he  was  custodian.     One  man  in- 


THE  CONFERENCE  AT  YORK        193 

deed  there  was  at  the  Conference  wholly  and  tragically 
in  earnest,  one  who  came  well  furnished  with  evidence 
and  eager  to  be  heard,  old  Lennox,  the  father  of  the 
murdered  man.  The  slight  attention  paid  to  his 
pleading  is  a  measure  of  the  unreality  of  the  proceedings. 
Behind  this  simulacrum  of  a  commission  was  Elisabeth, 
determined  that  Mary  should  be  disgraced  without 
Murray  gaining  thereby  any  independence  of  action 
and  without  loss  to  herself  of  the  appearance  of 
general  benevolence. 

Secret  messengers  passed  frequently  between 
York  and  Bolton.  Mary  was  passing  through  a 
troubled  and  exciting  time.  She,  less  than  any  one, 
desired  a  real  sifting  of  the  truth,  but  she  was  alert  and 
dangerous,  ready  to  fight  to  the  end.  Knollys  had 
been  at  York  and  on  his  return  on  the  14th  of 
October  she  asked,  "  When  will  they  proceed  to 
their  odious  accusations  ?  or  will  they  stay  and  be 
reconciled  to  me?  or  what  will  my  good  sister  do 
for  me  ? "  Knollys  thought  that  accusations  would  be 
made.  "  If  they  fall  to  extremities,"  she  replied, 
"  they  shall  be  answered  roundly  and  at  the  full,  and 
then  we  are  past  all  reconciliation." 

The  Bothwell  marriage  and  Mary's  abdication 
wasted  the  time  of  the  Commission  in  their  public 
sittings.  On  the  nth  October,  privately  and  in- 
formally, the  Scottish  lords  produced  their  strong 
card,  the  famous  Casket  with  its  enclosures. 

There  are  certain  mineral  debris,  hideous,  dis- 
torted masses  with  the  living  ore  scorched  out  of 
them,  which  Nature  refuses  either  to  reabsorb  or 
to  cover  with  decent  verdure.  There  are  certain 
things  also  in  human  affairs  which  neither  time  nor 
death  nor  tragic  circumstances  can  soften  or  dignify. 

N 


194  MARY  STUART 

Such  is  the  written  record  of  lawless  passion,  already 
extinct  and  turned  to  shame  and  loathing  while  those 
who  gave  it  utterance  are  yet  quick  with  the  desires 
of  life.  It  is  "the  expense  of  spirit  in  a  waste  of 
shame."  No  familiarity,  not  even  the  critical  analysis 
to  which  it  has  been  a  hundred  times  subjected,  can 
stale  the  terrible  vitality  and  dramatic  horror  of 
that  one  among  the  Casket  Letters  on  which  the 
evidence  hinges,  the  so-called  Glasgow  letter. 

It  purports  to  be  a  letter  written  by  Mary  to 
Bothwell,  and  sent  by  French  Paris  from  Glasgow  at 
the  time  she  visited  Darnley  on  his  sick-bed.  It 
appears  to  have  been  written  at  various  times,  chiefly 
at  night.  It  gives  full,  vivid,  pitiless  descriptions  of 
the  Queen's  conversations  with  her  husband. 

The  heart  of  the  writer  is  sorely  at  odds  with 
itself,  now  boasting  of  its  hardness  "  as  of  a  diamond," 
now  sickening  at  the  part  it  has  to  play.  Throughout, 
the  writer  is  in  complete  and  confidential  accord  with 
her  correspondent ;  she  renders  an  account  of  all  her 
actions  as  to  one  who  has  the  right  to  control  both 
them  and  her ;  she  is  painfully  anxious  to  please  and 
conciliate,  she  darkly  foreshadows  some  purpose  held 
in  common. 

Other  papers  were  shown,  some  more  letters,  the 
series  of  eleven  sonnets,  two  marriage  bonds — one  in 
Huntly's  handwriting — a  bond  guaranteeing  those 
who  should  sign  the  Ainslie  bond  ;  this  last  of  very 
doubtful  authenticity. 

The  Commissioners  were  men  of  the  world  and  of 
the  court  at  a  time  when  neither  were  squeamish  ; 
they  were  colleagues  and  friends  of  Leicester  who 
had  never  cleared  up  the  mystery  of  Amy  Robsart's 
death,    but    they   were   startled    and   aghast   at   this 


THE  CONFERENCE  AT  YORK         195 

evidence  of  Mary's  guilt.  Next  day  they  wrote  to 
Queen  Elisabeth:  "They  showed  us  one  horrible 
and  long  letter  in  her  own  hand,  as  they  say,  con- 
taining foul  matter  and  abominable  with  diverse  fond 
ballads  of  her  own  hand  .  .  .  the  said  letters  and 
ballads  do  discover  such  inordinate  love  between  her- 
self and  Bothwell,  her  loathsomeness  and  abhorring  of 
her  husband  that  was  murdered,  in  such  sort  as  every 
good  and  godly  man  cannot  but  abhor  the  same." 

Yet  even  in  the  first  horrified  account  there  is  a 
note  of  dubiety  ;  twice  they  repeat  "  if  the  said  letters 
be  written  in  her  own  hand  "  ;  either  there  was  some- 
thing suspect  in  the  letters  themselves  or  some  one 
had  the  art  to  hint  a  doubt  of  their  authenticity. 

It  has  been  ingeniously  conjectured,  and  with 
much  apparent  probability,*  that  Lethington — whose 
object  it  was  to  disarm  and  propitiate  Mary — was 
anxious  to  shake  the  faith  of  the  Commissioners  in 
the  damning  evidence  of  the  letters.  On  the  16th, 
a  Sunday,  Lethington  had  a  long  ride  with  Norfolk 
during  which  Norfolk  told  him  that  it  was  Elisabeth's 
purpose  that  everything  should  come  out  to  Mary's 
dishonour.  What  Lethington  told  him  in  return,  we 
do  not  know  ;  but  whereas  Norfolk  had  before  advised 
Mary  to  accept  a  compromise  even  if  it  involved  ab- 
dication, he  now  sent  a  message  to  bid  her  refuse 
all  reconciliation. 

Now  Norfolk  had  personal  motives  for  wishing 
to  find  Mary  innocent.  There  was  no  such  motive  on 
Sussex's  part,  yet  it  was  Sussex  that  wrote,  "If  her 
adverse  party  accuse  her  of  the  murder  by  producing 
of  her  letters,  she  will  deny  them  and  accuse  the 
most  of  them   of  manifest    consent   to    the    murder, 

*  By  Mr  Lang  in  "The  Mystery  of  Mary  Stewart,"  chapter  xi, 


196  MARY  STUART 

hardly  to  be  denied ;  so  as  upon  the  trial  on  both 
sides,  her  proofs  will  judicially  fall  out  best,  as  it  is 
thought." 

Things  were  at  a  dead-lock  and  might  have 
drifted  into  compromise  with  a  show  of  saving  her 
honour,  but  that  would  not  have  suited  Elisabeth. 
She  was  impatient  for  the  disclosures  which  were  to 
deliver  her  cousin  helpless  into  her  hands.  Moreover, 
she  had  heard  that  about  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  which 
made  her  uneasy.  She  suddenly  broke  up  the  Con- 
ference, or  rather  transferred  it  up  to  Westminster. 

The  tension  of  the  next  few  months  would  have 
broken  down  and  driven  to  a  humiliating  submission 
any  woman  with  less  magnificent  courage  than  Mary. 
A  wild  creature  at  the  last  will  turn  at  bay  and  attack 
its  pursuers,  but  with  what  hope  of  success  if  it  finds 
itself  in  a  trap  overmatched  by  superior  cunning? 
Mary  was  a  prisoner  at  four  days'  distance  from  the 
scene  where  her  fate  was  being  decided ;  her  judges 
were  partial ;  her  accusers  were  admitted  to  their 
presence,  while  she  was  denied  the  right  of  the 
meanest  criminal,  that  of  being  brought  face  to  face 
with  her  accusers  and  permitted  to  reply  to  them. 
Yet  the  English  jurists  had  themselves  admitted  that 
this  right  could  not  in  fairness  be  denied  her.  Further, 
in  defiance  of  all  justice,  she  never  even  saw  the 
evidence  brought  against  her.  She  had  to  act  through 
Commissioners  with  whom — owing  to  the  distance — 
she  could  only  communicate  at  intervals.  She  was  de- 
pendent for  information  on  her  keepers,  who  made  no 
pretence  of  believing  her  to  be  anything  but  guilty. 
Yet  not  for  a  moment  did  she  lose  heart  or  hope. 
At  the  height  of  her  anxiety  Knollys  wrote  of  her 
with    half-reluctant    admiration,    "  She   has    courage 


THE  CONFERENCE  AT  YORK        197 

enough  to  hold  out  as  long  as  any  jot  of  hope  may  be 
left  to  her." 

It  is  necessary  to  sketch  as  briefly  as  may  be  the 
miscarriage  of  justice  at  this  Westminster  Conference. 

Mary's  Commissioners  had  been  instructed  that  if 
the  action  were  changed,  and  she  were  put  in  the  place 
of  the  accused  instead  of  the  accuser,  they  were  to 
break  off  negotiations.  Unfortunately  she  also  in- 
structed them  to  try  and  effect  a  reconciliation  before 
any  accusation  should  have  been  made. 

Elisabeth  was  bent  on  wringing  out  of  Murray 
the  worst  that  could  be  said  about  his  sister.  She 
did  this  on  the  pretence  that  she  believed  so  implicitly 
in  his  inability  to  prove  Mary's  guilt  that  she  desired 
that  he  should  be  condemned  out  of  his  own  mouth. 
With  a  show  of  reluctance — kept  up  till  the  incriminat- 
ing documents  were  snatched  in  rough  horse-play 
from  his  secretary's  bosom — Murray  produced  his 
accusation.  It  had  grown  in  definiteness  and  heinous- 
ness.  Now  Bothwell  is  the  mere  executer  of  the 
murder,  it  was  devised  and  commanded  by  Mary. 

At  this  stage  Mary's  Commissioners  demanded 
that  the  action  should  be  stopped  and  their  mistress 
allowed  to  appear  to  answer  to  these  accusations. 
They  went  down  to  Hampton  Court  to  press  their 
demands  on  Queen  Elisabeth.  Unfortunately  they 
fatuously  took  the  opportunity  of  suggesting  to  Cecil 
and  Leicester  that  matters  might  yet  be  compromised, 
the  accusation  withdrawn  and  Mary  and  her  subjects 
reconciled. 

Elisabeth  took  advantage  of  this  blunder.  To 
compromise  at  this  stage  would  be  to  the  dishonour 
of  her  good  sister,  it  would  look  as  if  she  were  afraid 
of  the  evidence  that  might  be  brought  against  her. 


198  MARY  STUART 

:'  She  did  so  much  prefer  the  estimation  of  her  sister's 
innocency  that  before  she  would  allow  the  matter  to  be 
stayed  she  must  have  the  Earl  of  Murray  roundly  and 
sharply  charged  with  his  audacious  defaming  of  his 
sovereign."  As  to  Mary's  pleading  her  own  cause, 
Elisabeth  affected  to  believe  the  evidence  so  certain 
to  break  down  that  her  presence  would  be  unnecessary. 

That  evidence,  unsoftened,  uncurtailed,  Elisabeth 
was  determined  to  have,  determined  also  that  it  should 
be  known  to  all  her  chief  nobility.  More  members 
had  been  added  to  the  Commission.  Cecil,  of  course, 
and  Bacon,  and  now  were  added  the  men  known  to 
be  most  favourable  to  Mary's  cause,  Northumberland, 
Westmoreland,  Derby,  Shrewsbury  and  others. 
[Whatever  their  opinion  of  the  evidence  against  her 
may  have  been  we  shall  find  several  of  them  raising 
rebellion  on  her  behalf  in  the  course  of  the  ensuing 
months.] 

In  three  days,  and  these  among  the  shortest  and 
darkest  of  the  year,  the  mass  of  incriminating  papers 
were  examined.  They  lay  scattered  on  the  table  and 
were  taken  up  at  hap-hazard.  There  was  no  cross- 
examining,  nor  calling  of  witnesses,  nor  was  an  expert 
in  handwriting  consulted. 

At  the  end  only  four  of  the  noblemen  present, 
Cecil,  Sadler,  Leicester  and  Bacon,  declared  them- 
selves convinced.  Others  were  diffident  of  judging,  or 
thought  that  the  Queen  of  Scots  should  have  been 
heard  in  her  defence.  Yet  they  were  brought  round  to 
agree  that,  as  the  case  did  now  stand,  Elisabeth  could 
not  admit  Mary  into  her  presence,  "  the  rather  as 
they  had  seen  such  foul  stuff." 

There  was  a  show  of  offering  Mary  a  right  of 
reply.      It  was  proposed  that  some  accredited  noble- 


THE  CONFERENCE  AT  YORK         199 

man  might  be  sent  down  to  hear  what  she  had  to 
say  or  she  might  appoint  someone  to  answer  for 
her. 

Knollys  was  convinced  that  she  would  never 
answer  the  accusations  except  by  declaring  them  false 
on  the  word  of  a  princess.  She  sent  a  long  and 
vehement  counter  accusation  of  her  enemies,  but  it 
was  indefinite,  and  the  last  bolt  in  her  quiver,  the 
incriminating  paper,  she  never  discharged. 

The  worst  and  weakest  point  in  the  whole  travesty 
of  law  and  justice  was  the  final  summing  up  of 
Elisabeth  on  the  ioth.  Nothing  had  been  proved, 
she  declared,  to  the  discredit  of  Murray  and  his  allies 
nor  on  the  other  hand  had  they  produced  anything 
"whereby  the  Queen  of  England  should  conceive  or 
take  any  evil  opinion  of  the  Queen  her  good  sister 
for  anything  yet  seen." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

NORFOLK 
February  1569 — July  1569 

AT  the  trial  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  in  January 
1572  Sergeant  Barham,  the  hectoring  advocate 
for  the  crown,  made  this  rhetorical  inquisition  into  the 
Duke's  motive  for  wishing  to  marry  the  Queen  of 
Scots. 

"  You  never  saw  her,  you  could  not  then  be  carried 
with  love  of  her  person  ;  you  conceived  ill  opinion  of 
her  .  .  .  the  fame  of  her  good  qualities  and  virtuous 
condition  you  never  heard  much  of  except  it  were  by 
herself  or  the  Bishop  of  Ross  "  ;  and  he  goes  on  to 
draw  the  conclusion  that  Norfolk  was  attracted  to 
Mary  solely  as  to  one  claiming  a  right  to  Elisabeth's 
throne,  and  that  consequently  all  his  action  in  regard 
to  her  was  an  act  of  high  treason. 

When  one  follows  Norfolk's  career  from  point  to 
point,  one  sees  reason  enough  for  the  Sergeant's 
question.  He  was  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  head 
a  great  conspiracy.  He  had  not  the  elementary 
requisite  of  knowing  what  he  wanted.  On  all  points 
he  halted  between  two  opinions.  He  was  never  sure 
that  Mary  was  not  the  murderess  and  adulteress  he 
once  admitted  to  Queen  Elisabeth  that  she  was,  yet  he 
risked  life,  lands  and  honour  for  the  sake  of  marrying 
her.  He  was  ever  doubtful  whether  "  the  religion  "  he 
and  she  meant  to  establish  was  to  be  a  Protestantism 
such  as  Murray  would  approve,  or  a  Catholic  reaction 


NORFOLK  201 

such  as  would  secure  the  support  of  Philip  of  Spain. 
He  conspired  at  one  and  the  same  time  to  obtain 
Mary  in  marriage  at  the  hand  of  Queen  Elisabeth, 
and  to  free  her  by  force  and  set  her  on  the  throne 
with  the  aid  of  an  invading  Spanish  army. 

At  the  time  of  the  York  Conference  he  was  restless 
and  discontented.  He,  with  the  rest  of  the  older 
nobility,  could  not  see  with  complacency  the 
ascendency  of  the  new  and  abler  men  to  whom 
Elisabeth  entrusted  the  conduct  of  affairs.  He  was 
only  thirty-three  and  a  widower  for  the  third  time. 
His  domestic  bereavements  had  built  up  his  fortunes. 
To  rise  by  alliances  was  the  frankly  worldly  habit  of 
all  great  and  noble  houses.  Lands  and  possessions 
Norfolk  had  already  secured,  the  vision  of  a  crown  in 
possession  and  another  in  reversion  appealed  to  a 
vanity  which  masqueraded  as  ambition.  Perhaps  the 
simplest  explanation  of  his  ill-calculated  action  lies  in 
the  fascination  that  vast  and  complicated  ambitions 
have  for  the  incapable. 

Yet  fate  dealt  patiently  with  Norfolk.  At  every 
stage  there  were  clear  indications  of  danger  given  and 
a  way  left  open  by  which  he  could  have  retreated  with 
safety  and  honour.  But  half-heartedly,  lacking  alike 
conviction  and  personal  devotion,  he  stumbled  along 
the  path  which  led  only  to  dishonour  and  the  scaffold. 
He  was  to  die  for  the  sake  of  a  woman  who  was 
nothing  to  him,  and  to  reflect  bitterly  that  "nothing 
that  anybody  goeth  about  for  her  nor  that  she  doeth 
for  herself  prospereth." 

Whether  the  idea  of  a  marriage  between  Norfolk 
and  the  Oueen  of  Scots  originated  with  him  or  had 
been  suggested  by  Leicester,  as  some  thought,  it 
had  certainly  been  mooted  to  Mary  before  the  York 


202  MARY  STUART 

Conference.  Then  came  the  revelation  of  the  Casket 
Letters  which  gave  Norfolk  pause  —  as  it  well 
might ! 

In  his  private  talk  with  Murray  in  the  gallery  of 
his  lodging,  before  the  revelation  of  the  letters,  Norfolk 
had  persuaded  the  Regent  to  suppress  his  accusations 
and  work  for  a  compromise ;  though  in  his  earlier 
talks  with  Lethington  he  had  seemed  to  repudiate  the 
idea  of  the  marriage. 

There  must  have  been  an  extraordinary  persuasive- 
ness in  the  apparent  frankness  and  clear  reasonable- 
ness of  Lethington,  as  contrasted  with  the  sancti- 
moniousness and  embarrassment  of  Murray.  That 
Sunday  ride  at  Carwood  seems  to  have  brought 
Norfolk  back  to  his  first  views  and  plans.  Yet,  so 
unstable  was  he,  that  it  was  probably  during  the 
Westminster  Conference  that  he  vehemently  defended 
himself  to  Elisabeth  from  the  accusation  of  aiming  at 
such  a  marriage. 

"  To  what  end  should  I  seek  to  marry  her,  being  so 
wicked  a  woman,  such  a  notorious  adulterer  and 
murderer?  I  love  to  sleep  on  a  safe  pillow.  In  my 
bowling-green  at  Norwich,  I  account  myself  as  good 
a  prince  as  the  Queen  of  Scots ;  the  revenues  of 
Scotland  are  not  comparable  to  mine  own  that  I 
enjoy  by  your  goodness.  If  I  should  seek  to  match 
with  her,  knowing  as  I  do,  that  she  pretendeth  a  title 
to  the  present  possession  of  your  crown,  your  Majesty 
might  justly  charge  me  with  seeking  your  crown  from 
your  head." 

Yet  this  was  nothing  but  the  exaggerated  heat  of 
deception,  for  at  the  end  of  the  Conference  a  serious 
warning  was  conveyed  to  Murray  that  he  had 
incensed  the  Duke  by  his  broken  pledges  and  open 


NORFOLK  203 

accusation  of  his  sister.  The  whole  of  the  North,  he 
was  told,  was  at  the  Duke's  devotion  and  he  ran 
serious  risk  of  having  his  throat  cut  between  York 
and  Berwick  on  his  homeward  journey.  The  danger 
was  so  real,  that  Murray — though  he  was  no  coward 
where  his  person  was  concerned — remained  in  the 
south  unwilling  to  take  the  risk. 

Throckmorton,  always  a  friend  to  Mary  and  the 
Scottish  succession,  worked  for  an  understanding 
between  Norfolk  and  Murray  and  arranged  a  secret 
meeting  in  the  Park  of  Hampton  Court.  There  is  a 
theatrical  and  self-conscious  ring  about  the  speeches 
of  both  the  noblemen.  Murray  protested  that  Mary 
had  once  been  the  creature  on  earth  dearest  to  him, 
and  that  if  she  would  come  to  herself  and  renounce 
her  godless  marriage  with  Bothwell,  and  especially  if 
she  married  some  pious  and  honest  gentleman,  he 
would  find  it  in  his  heart  to  love  her  as  well  as  ever 
he  did.  Norfolk,  in  equally  noble  and  touching  diction, 
ended  up  with  "  Earl  of  Murray,  thou  hast  Norfolk's 
life  in  thy  hands."  At  the  very  time  of  the  interview 
Mary  was  being  removed  from  Bolton  and  the  care 
of  Knollys  and  Scrope  to  Tutbury  and  the  charge  of 
the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury.  Sir  James  Melville,  hastily 
despatched  by  Norfolk,  met  her  at  Ripon,  and  from 
thence  she  wrote  to  Westmoreland  bidding  him  and 
his  friends  to  leave  the  Scottish  Regent  unmolested. 

The  energy  with  which  Mary  had  struggled 
against  removal  from  Bolton  proves  the  necessity  there 
was  for  the  step.  Knollys  was  being  relieved  of  his 
charge  ;  single-handed,  Scrope's  guardianship  was  not 
to  be  trusted.  Lady  Scrope  was  sister  to  Norfolk 
and  also  to  Lady  Westmoreland.  Messages  passed 
frequently  between  Mary  and  the  northern  Catholics, 


204  MARY  STUART 

hopeful,  exciting  messages,  fatal  alike  for  her  and 
them. 

Early  in  January,  triumphantly  ignoring  Com- 
missioners, accusations  and  disgrace,  she  had  written 
to  the  Bishop  of  Ross,  "Tell  the  Spanish  ambassador 
that  if  his  master  will  help  me,  I  shall  be  Queen  of 
England  in  three  months,  and  mass  shall  be  said  all 
over  the  country." 

Spain  had  always  floated,  a  golden  mirage,  on 
Mary's  horizon.  There  had  always  been  personal 
difficulties,  jealousies  and  antipathies  in  her  dealings 
with  the  French  and  English  governments.  In 
dealing  with  Spain  she  was  dealing  with  a  prince 
personally  unknown  to  her,  so  that  she  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  crediting  him  with  disinterested  regard  for 
her  and  generous  pity  of  her  woes.  She  was  on  firmer 
ground  when  she  believed  that  the  Catholic  cause  in 
the  British  Islands  had  a  strong  claim  on  Philip's 
religious  zeal.  For  twenty  years  she  was  to  be  the 
victim  of  his  promises  and  his  lethargy. 

The  Queen  of  Spain,  Madame  Elisabeth,  the  only 
really  lovable  child  of  Catherine  de  Medici,  had  sent 
her  old  play-fellow  a  letter  of  sympathy  in  her  troubles. 
Mary  seized  eagerly  the  opportunity  of  placing  her 
case  intimately  and  favourably  before  Elisabeth's 
husband.  She  could  report  that  England  was 
Catholic  at  heart,  that  she  had  gained  the  affection 
of  many  to  her  cause,  and  that,  however  appearances 
might  seem  to  be  against  it,  she  was  prepared  to  die 
for  the  cause  of  religion. 

Even  if  Madame  Elisabeth  had  tried  her  gentle 
advocacy  with  her  husband  it  would  not  have  filled  his 
empty  treasury,  nor  appeased  Alva's  mutinous  Spanish 
soldiers,   nor   repressed   the    gathering   storm   in   the 


NORFOLK  205 

Netherlands.  Not  the  most  arbitrary  of  rulers,  not 
the  most  Catholic  of  kings  was  free  to  follow  his  con- 
victions and  his  sympathies  in  the  sixteenth  any  more 
than  in  any  other  century.  Madame  Elisabeth  might 
have  done  something  perhaps  to  restore  Philip's  con- 
fidence in  the  Queen  of  Scots,  sorely  shattered  by  her 
Protestant  marriage ;  whatever  her  influence  might 
have  done,  it  was  removed  a  few  months  later  by  her 
early  death. 

It  seemed  in  the  winter  of  1569  as  if  events  would 
compel  Philip  to  justify  Mary's  hopes.  From  various 
causes  relations  between  the  Spanish  and  English 
governments  had  been  strained  to  the  cracking  point. 
De  Silva,  the  Spanish  ambassador,  whose  good  sense, 
toleration  and  enlightened  sense  of  honour,  were  all 
o-uarantees  of  peace,  had  been  replaced  by  de  Guerau 
d'Espes  a  man  of  different  calibre.  As  eager  a  plotter 
as  was  ever  de  Silva's  predecessor,  the  Bishop  of 
Aquila,  he  was  also  imbued  with  fanatical,  aggressive 
neo-Catholicism,  the  spirit  which,  from  Pius  V.  down- 
wards, was  putting  new  and  living  force  into  the 
Church.  De  Guerau's  lodging  at  the  Spanish  Embassy 
soon  became  a  centre  of  restless  disaffection. 

Meanwhile,  though  she  was  buoying  herself  up 
with  the  belief  that  events  were  working  for  her,  the 
winter  was  passing  dismally  enough  for  Mary  at 
Tutbury,  the  most  cheerless  of  her  prisons. 

Discomfort  had  been  severe  enough  at  Loch 
Leven,  but  the  walls  of  the  four-square  tower  were 
several  feet  thick  ;  fresh  air  blew  from  the  surround- 
ing hills  and  the  occasional  sunshine  was  flashed  upon 
her  windows  from  the  sparkling  waters  of  the  lake. 
At  Tutbury,  on  the  top  of  a  windy  eminence,  a  low, 
rambling  timber  and  plaster  house  was  sunk  between 


206  MARY  STUART 

the  walls  of  a  square  enclosure  in  such  a  manner 
that  the  walls  rose  on  one  side  as  high  as  the  roof 
of  the  house  and  on  another  were  no  more  than 
six  yards  distant  from  the  windows.  The  house  was 
occasionally  used  by  the  Shrewsburys  as  a  hunting 
lodge,  and  was  thoroughly  out  of  repair,  the  roof 
leaking  and  the  plaster  peeling  off  in  strips.  A 
bare  vegetable  plot  was  all  the  view  from  Mary's 
windows ;  the  two  rooms  she  inhabited  were  so 
draughty  that  all  the  carpets  and  hangings  brought 
by  the  Shrewsburys  from  Sheffield  were  quite  in- 
effectual to  keep  out  the  wintry  chill,  and  the  walls 
were  so  damp  that  mould  gathered  on  the  furniture  in 
four  days.  In  the  midst  of  this  dilapidation  and  with 
hygienic  conditions  incredible  to  modern  experience  a 
certain  pomp  and  ceremonial  were  yet  sustained.  Mary 
had  her  cloth  of  state  and  services  of  gold  and  silver, 
even  her  hand-basin  was  of  precious  metal.  After  a 
few  weeks  Lord  Shrewsbury,  impatient  of  the  dis- 
comfort of  Tutbury,  obtained  permission  to  remove 
his  charge  to  his  own  manor  of  Wingfield,  as  fair  and 
stately  a  mansion  as  any  in  England.  It  was  always 
to  Tutbury  that  Mary  was  hurried  when  any  crisis 
made  stricter  imprisonment  advisable. 

In  the  small  crowded  dwelling-house  at  Loch 
Leven  the  human  drama,  at  least,  had  been  intense 
and  intimate.  Mary's  health,  on  the  whole,  had  been 
good  there,  her  nerves  tense,  her  mind  occupied  with 
winning  favour  and  affection.  At  the  bottom  of  Scot- 
tish hearts  there  has  always  been  a  contradictory 
romantic  vein,  at  any  moment  ready  to  swing  round 
to  the  ancient  kings  against  whom  they  were  the  first 
to  rebel.  Mary  never  fully  realised  that  with  her 
advent  on   English  ground  her  spells  were  broken, 


BESS  OF    II  VUnWK'K. 


NORFOLK  207 

Her  familiar  servants  indeed  were  to  hold  to  her  with 
passionate  devotion  ;  later  on  she  was  to  become  the 
ideal  figure  for  whom  ardent  Catholics  were  to  plot 
and  die,  but,  as  far  as  her  gaolers  were  concerned,  the 
"  enchantment  whereby  men  were  bewitched  "  was  to 
fall  powerless  on  English  gentlemen,  secure  in  loyalty 
to  Gloriana,  in  national  prejudice  and  in  the  friction 
of  daily  arguments  on  the  limits  of  their  charge's  liberty. 
In  addition  to  these  securities  Lord  Shrewsbury  was 
protected  from  too  warm  an  interest  in  his  beautiful 
charge  by  lively  preoccupation  with  his  own  health, 
by  the  constant  economic  worries  inseparable  from 
Elisabeth's  service,  and  by  a  wife  who,  whether  she 
were  kind  or  curst,  played  too  large  a  part  in  his  life 
to  leave  room  for  another  woman. 

Lady  Shrewsbury,  the  famous  Bess  of  Hardwick, 
was  not  likely  to  be  carried  away  by  generous  sym- 
pathy with  the  captive  Queen,  though  she  watched  the 
political  sky  keenly  and  accommodated  her  behaviour 
to  Mary  according  as  her  prospects  brightened  or 
darkened.  Through  Lady  Shrewsbury's  long,  active 
and  prosperous  life  she  single-mindedly  pursued  her 
own  interests  and  those  of  her  eight  Cavendish  chil- 
dren. She  built  houses,  added  field  to  field,  accumu- 
lated house-stuff,  secured  settlements  and  jointures 
from  four  successive  husbands,  intrigued  for  marriages 
for  her  children,  quarrelled  with  most  of  her  relations, 
and  died  at  a  good  old  age,  the  ancestress  of  half  the 
great  houses  in  the  kingdom. 

In  the  early  days  when  any  political  change  or 
chance  might  have  landed  Mary  on  the  throne,  or  at 
least  have  declared  her  next  heir,  it  was  worth  Lady 
Shrewsbury's  while  to  be  polite  and  serviceable.  Mr 
Richard,  the    third   of  the   Cavendish   sons,  was    in 


208  MARY  STUART 

the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  company  and  partly  in  his 
confidence. 

In  the  summer  of  1569  Elisabeth,  realising  the 
danger  and  inconvenience  of  keeping  Mary  a  prisoner, 
was  entertaining  her  cousin  with  the  first  of  endless 
negotiations  for  her  restoration.  Over  and  over 
again  the  same  conditions  were  to  be  offered  to  Mary 
with  no  intention  of  their  being  fulfilled.  She  was  to 
give  up  her  claim  to  the  English  throne,  to  be  reconciled 
to  her  rebels,  to  renounce  the  old  alliance  with  France 
and  form  a  closer  one  with  England,  and  accept  Elisa- 
beth's dictation  as  to  her  marriage  and  conduct  generally. 

While  these  negotiations  were  pending,  Mr  Caven- 
dish arrived  at  his  step-father's  mansion  with  a  secret 
proposal  from  some  of  the  most  important  lords  of  the 
Privy  Council,  Lord  Lumley,  Lord  Pembroke,  Lord 
Leicester,  Lord  Arundel  and  others.  They  suggested 
that  Mary  should  accept  some  English  nobleman  in 
marriage  and  pointed  out  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  the 
head  of  the  English  peerage,  as  the  fittest  for  the 
purpose.  Even  Cecil  affected  to  be  favourable  to  the 
proposal.  Leicester  was  so  deep  in  the  scheme  that 
he  wrote  Mary  a  separate  affectionate  letter — a  letter 
carefully  preserved  to  be  used  if  ever  it  should  be 
advisable,  as  a  thorn  in  Elisabeth's  flesh. 

The  proposal  was  an  earnest  that  these  noblemen 
meant  that  Mary's  right  of  succession  should  be  recog- 
nised. Mary's  answer  was  admirable  in  prudence  and 
dignity.  She  referred  to  the  vexations  of  her  former 
marriages  and  declared  that  she  was  now  minded  to 
live  a  solitary  life  all  her  days  ;  still  if  the  Queen  and 
nobility  of  England  desired  her  re-marriage  she  could 
be  content,  and  "  especially  in  favour  of  the  Earl  of 
Norfolk  whom  she  liked  before  all  others." 


NORFOLK  209 

Perhaps  her  reluctance  was  not  all  feigned.  She 
had  other  strings  to  her  bow.  A  rising  of  the 
Catholics  in  her  favour,  a  Spanish  army  landing  on 
the  east  coast,  a  sudden  raid  on  Wingfield,  a  rescue, 
and  she  herself  again  at  the  head  of  armed  men 
marching  in  triumph  on  London ;  these  were  the 
visions  with  which  she  preferred  to  kindle  her 
imagination. 

It  was  the  mistake  of  her  policy  that  she  must 
needs  entertain  every  offer  made  to  her.  So  the 
Norfolk  negotiations  went  on  and  the  Norfolk  corre- 
spondence began,  that  curious  series  of  unreal  love 
letters  with  their  frozen  expressions  of  affection. 
Unconvincing  as  is  the  devotion  they  express,  they 
are  painfully  characterised  by  Mary's  habit  of  offering 
unreserved  submission  to  her  lover.  Norfolk  responded 
in  a  similar  artificial  vein.  He  sent  her,  by  Lord 
Boyd,  a  ruby  which  she  wore  beneath  her  gown,  and 
subscribed  his  letter  with  a  warmth  which  Mary  did 
not  allow  him  to  forget. 

Lord  Boyd  then  proceeded  on  his  way  to  Scotland 
with  a  joint  commission  from  both  to  the  Scottish 
Lords.  The  main  difficulty  in  the  matter  had  not 
been  faced  ;  no  one  had  dared  to  approach  Elisabeth 
with  the  suggestion  of  such  a  thing.  Any  news  of  an 
intended  marriage  was  apt  to  irritate  Elisabeth ;  a 
marriage  proposal  for  her  cousin  that  would  involve  her 
recognition  as  next  heir  would  produce  a  storm  before 
which  the  bravest  might  quail.  It  was  judged  more 
politic  that  the  proposal  should  come  from  Scotland 
and  that  Lethington,  always  a  grateful  presence  to 
Elisabeth,  should  be  the  spokesman. 

Norfolk,  whose  duplicity  of  character  was  equalled 
by   his    simplicity   of    understanding,    calculated    on 


210  MARY  STUART 

Murray's  loyal  support.  He  delivered  himself  into 
his  hands  when  he  wrote  to  him  on  July  ist,  1569. 
"  I  have  proceeded  so  far  therein  that  I  can  neither 
with  conscience  revoke  what  I  have  done  nor  with 
honour  proceed  further  until  you  shall  remove  all 
such  stumbling  blocks  as  are  hindrances  to  our  more 
apparent  proceedings.  When  these  obstacles  are 
removed,  the  rest  shall  follow  to  your  contentment 
and  comfort." 

Yet  "these  obstacles,"  i.e.  the  Bothwell  marriage, 
were  precisely  the  safeguards  of  Murray  and  his 
Scottish  supporters  and  they  were  in  no  hurry  to 
remove  them. 

The  Scottish  Parliament  met  in  July,  in  Perth, 
to  consider  and  reject  Elisabeth's  proposals  for 
Mary's  restoration.  Then  came  the  question  of  the 
Bothwell  marriage.  Two  years  earlier  Mary's  refusal 
to  consent  to  a  divorce  had  been  made  the  pretext  for 
her  imprisonment, almost  for  her  death,  nowihey  treated 
the  proposal  as  impious  and  not  to  be  entertained. 
Murray,  while  affecting  to  favour  his  sister's  request, 
was  working  dead  against  her.  It  was  in  vain  that 
Lethington  scorched  the  inconsistency  of  the  Lords 
with  the  fire  of  his  fine  wit.  Ever  since  York  he  had 
been  working  hard  for  Mary  and  the  Norfolk  alliance, 
and  had  consequently  become  an  embarrassment  and 
source  of  irritation  to  the  Regent.  The  evidence  of 
his  complicity  in  the  murder  had  been  suppressed 
as  long  as  it  suited  Murray's  convenience,  but  now  it 
was  suddenly  sprung  upon  him.  Crawford  of  Jordan- 
hill,  a  Lennox  man,  accused  him  in  an  open  meeting 
at  Stirling  and  he  was  imprisoned.  He  was  shortly 
afterwards  placed  in  the  charge  of  Kirkcaldy  of  Grange, 
now  Captain  of  the  Castle  of  Edinburgh.     The  soldier 


NORFOLK  211 

was  no  more  contented  than  the  Secretary  with  Murray 
and  Morton  and  their  policy.  Together  they  were 
to  form  a  party  which  for  three  more  years  were 
to  uphold  Mary's  forlorn  cause  in  Scotland. 

In  the  meantime,  if  a  marriage  between  Mary  and 
Norfolk  were  to  be  placed  in  a  favourable  light 
before  Elisabeth,  it  would  not  be  by  the  persuasive 
voice  of  the  Flower  of  the  Wits  of  Scotland. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

TWO    PICTURES 

'  I  SHE  effort  to  follow  the  course  of  these  negotia- 
■*■  tions  leaves  the  historical  student  perplexed  and 
wearied,  baffled  in  every  effort  to  understand  or 
respect  the  motives  of  anyone  of  the  actors.  But 
hunting  among  the  documents  he  is  relieved  to  catch 
again  and  again  glimpses  of  the  Scottish  Queen, 
the  living,  authentic  woman  whom  he  came  to  know 
in  France,  at  Holyrood  and  at  Loch  Leven.  She  is 
always  the  same — alert,  high-spirited,  irresistibly 
natural  and  gracious. 

As  much  from  instinct  as  from  deliberate  policy 
she  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  winning  hearts  and 
captivating  imaginations.  Here  are  two  pictures  of 
her  in  the  first  year  of  her  captivity  in  England. 

The  first  is  from  the  lips  of  a  young  Catholic 
gentleman,  Mr  Christopher  Norton,  who  happened  to 
be  serving  under  Knollys  and  Scrope  at  the  latter's 
Castle  of  Bolton.  He  was  later  imprisoned  for  his 
share  in  the  Northern  Rising  and  it  was  in  the  course 
of  his  defence  that  he  gave  the  following  charming 
and  unaffected  account  of  his  acquaintance  with  the 
Queen  of  Scots.  He  formed  one  of  the  guard  who 
kept  watch  on  her  and  her  attendants.  Through  the 
good  offices  of  Lady  Livingston  he  had  had  one 
interview  with  the  queen.  She  had  done  him  a 
kindness    in   writing  to    the   Spanish   ambassador  on 


TWO  PICTURES  213 

behalf  of  a  kinsman  of  Norton's,  a  prisoner  in  Spain. 
She  who  knew  everything  that  it  concerned  her  to 
know,  knew  him  to  be  a  member  of  one  of  those 
noble,  devout,  old  Catholic  houses  of  the  North, 
always  romantically  ready  to  risk  life  and  lands  for 
their  religion,  and  she  recognised  him  to  be  a  gallant 
and  generous  young  gentleman  whom  it  would  not 
be  hard  to  win.  We  owe  to  him  an  unforgettable 
picture  of  a  winter  afternoon  at  Bolton  Castle. 

"  One  day  when  the  Queen  of  Scots  had  been 
sitting  at  the  window,  knitting  of  a  work,  after  the 
board  was  covered,  she  rose  and  went  to  the  fire- 
side, and,  making  haste  to  have  her  work  finished, 
would  not  lay  it  away  but  worked  at  it  while  she 
was  warming  herself  and  looked  for  one  of  her  own 
servants  which  were  all  gone  to  fetch  their  meat. 
Seeing-  none  of  her  own  folk  there,  she  caused  me  to 
hold  her  work  as  I  was  looking  at  my  Lord  Scrope 
and  Sir  Francis  Knollys  playing  at  chess.  I  went, 
thinking  it  would  not  become  me  to  refuse.  Lady 
Scrope  standing  by  the  fire  and  many  gentlemen  in 
the  chamber  saw  that  she  did  not  speak  to  me  and 
I  do  not  think  Sir  Francis  Knollys  saw  or  heard 
when  she  called  me.  When  he  had  played  his  mate, 
seeing  me  standing  by  the  Queen  he  called  my 
captain  and  asked  if  I  watched.  Then  he  com- 
manded that  I  should  watch  no  more  and  said  the 
Queen  would  make  me  a  fool." 

Is  not  this  candid  narrative  like  a  perspective  glass 
through  which  we  see  clearly  these  figures  sitting  and 
moving  in  the  firelight  in  the  dim  November  afternoon  ? 

If  the  next  account  we  have  of  Mary  in  her 
prison  lacks  the  vividness  of  Chris  Norton's  narrative, 
it   is   because   the   writer    is   making  an   effort   to   be 


214  MARY  STUART 

impressive  and  is  too  reminiscent  of  his  own  share 
in  the  conversation. 

Mary  was  already  settled  in  the  lugubrious  Castle 
of  Tutbury  under  Lord  Shrewsbury's  care  when  Mr 
Nicholas  White,  a  correspondent  of  Cecil,  turned 
aside  on  his  way  to  Ireland  to  visit  the  Earl.  In 
these  early  days  Shrewsbury  was  a  lenient  gaoler 
and  strangers  had  easy  access  to  the  Queen.  Mary 
received  White  in  a  room  where  the  costly  hangings 
and  furniture  could  not  cover  the  dilapidation. 
He  marked  the  device  embroidered  on  her  cloth  of 
state.  En  ma  fin  est  mo?i  commencement,  and  was 
perplexed  as  to  its  meaning.  To  Mary  and  her 
embroiderer  it  probably  meant  some  pious  common- 
place, to  us  it  foreshadows  volumes  of  controversy 
and  a  tale  of  such  undying  interest  that  each  genera- 
tion must  tell  it  afresh. 

The  sight  of  a  strange  face  must  have  been  a 
pleasant  variety  to  Mary,  otherwise  the  pedantry  and 
sermonising  of  Master  Nicholas  must  have  tried 
her  patience  and  politeness.  No  woman  was  ever 
more  preached  at  than  Mary.  White  brought  her 
the  news  of  Lady  Knollys'  death,  and  she  was  so 
sincerely  sympathetic  that  it  was  unnecessary  to 
explain  to  her  that  she  was  the  innocent  cause  of 
the  lady's  lonely  death-bed. 

With  admirable  politeness  Mary  accepted  Master 
Nicholas'  admonition  to  cultivate  a  grateful  spirit  not 
only  to  God  but  to  her  cousin  the  Queen  of  England, 
and  to  "  think  herself  rather  prince-like  entertained 
than  hardly  restrained  of  anything  that  was  fit  for 
her  grace's  estate."  "  This,"  the  self-complacent 
moralist  declared,  "she  very  gently  accepted";  he 
did  not  perceive  her  delicate  irony  when  she  added, 


TWO  PICTURES  215 

"that  as  for  content  in  this  her  present  state,  she 
would  not  require  it  at  God's  hands  but  only  patience 
which  she  humbly  prayed  him  to  give  her." 

There  is  a  charm  about  the  exclusively  feminine 
art  of  needlework  that  women,  whatever  their  quality 
or  gifts,  should  be  slow  to  relinquish.  It  softens 
one's  heart  to  this  queenly  creature,  the  perplexity 
of  every  European  government,  the  terror  of  English 
statesmen,  to  think  of  her  amusing  her  tedious  days 
matching  her  silks  and  covering  curtains  and  altar- 
cloths  with  pretty  devices.  "  She  said  that  all  the 
day  she  wrought  with  her  needle  and  that  the 
diversity  of  the  colours  did  make  it  seem  less  tedious, 
and  continued  so  long  at  it  till  very  pain  did  make 
her  to  give  it  over."  One  habit  of  the  Queen,  White 
mentions,  which  seems  to  have  been  characteristic 
of  her  all  her  life,  the  habit  of  sitting  up  late.  "  The 
Queen  over-watches  them  all,  for  it  is  one  of  the 
clock  at  least  every  night  ere  she  goes  to  bed." 
It  was  then  that  she  was  occupied  with  her 
correspondence. 

Cased  as  he  was  in  a  double  armour  of  loyalty 
to  his  own  Queen  and  preoccupation  with  himself, 
Master  Nicholas  felt  the  fascination  of  the  Scottish 
Queen  to  be  so  dangerous  that  he  seriously  advises 
Cecil  that  "  few  subjects  in  this  land  should  have 
access  to  this  Lady."  "  For  besides  that  she  is  a 
goodly  person— yet  in  truth  not  comparable  to  our 
Queen — she  hath  withal  an  alluring  grace,  a  pretty 
Scottish  accent,  and  a  searching  wit  clouded  with 
mildness." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    NORTHERN    RISING    AND    THE    RIDOLFI    PLOT 

I569.  1571— 1572 

NORFOLK  accompanied  Elisabeth  on  her  progress, 
hung  about  her  in  gardens  and  other  leisurely- 
places  but  could  find  no  moment  when  courage  and 
occasion  coincided.  Leicester  professed  to  be  paving 
the  way  for  his  confidences.  Elisabeth  herself  seemed 
at  times  to  invite  them.  On  his  arrival  from  London 
she  asked  meaningly  if  he  brought  no  news  of  a 
marriage.  Once,  in  her  hoydenish  way  she  gave  him 
a  nip  and  bade  him  look  well  to  his  pillow.  So  long 
as  it  was  mere  suspicion,  she  played  with  the  idea, 
but,  when  either  through  the  faithless  Leicester's  con- 
fession or  the  gossip  of  her  ladies,  the  plan  was  made 
clear  to  her  the  usual  burst  of  fury  fell  upon  Norfolk. 

Elisabeth's  next  step  was  to  demand  from  Murray 
a  full  account  of  his  dealings  with  Norfolk.  With 
unhesitating  alacrity,  Murray  delivered  into  her  hand 
the  unfortunate  man  who  had  subscribed  himself  his 
"  faithful  friend  and  natural  brother." 

In    his    first    resentful    excitement    Norfolk    had 

ridden  from  Andover  to  London  persuading  himself 

that  he  was   going  to  seize  the  Tower  and  raise  a 

rebellion,  but  the  excitement  ebbed  away  and  with  it 

all  his  resolution.     Spirits  more  fiery  and  chivalrous 

than  his,  the  Northern  Lords,  were  prepared  to  rise 

at  a  moment's  notice,  but  he  only  sent  them  a  chilling 

message    bidding    them    postpone    their    rising.      He 
216 


THE  NORTHERN  RISING  217 

retired  to  his  own  estate  in  Norfolk  and  incensed 
Elisabeth  by  refusing  to  return  to  court  at  her 
command  and  then  disheartened  his  friend  by  obeying 
the  summons  when  obedience  had  lost  all  grace  and 
could  only  be  attributed  to  fear. 

It  was  one  of  the  torturing  conditions  of  Mary's 
captivity  that  the  first  indication  she  had  of  any  of 
her  plans  miscarrying  was  a  sudden  unexplained 
increase  of  rigour  in  the  conditions  of  her  imprison- 
ment. At  the  end  of  September,  Shrewsbury's  ill- 
health  was  made  the  pretext  for  associating  with  him 
in  his  charge  Huntingdon  and  Hertford,  both  claimants 
to  the  English  succession,  and  consequently  little 
inclined  to  treat  Mary  with  favour  or  leniency.  She 
was  suddenly  spirited  off  from  pleasant,  roomy  Wing- 
field  to  the  gloom  and  discomfort  of  Tutbury,  and  at 
one  stroke  her  household  was  reduced  from  sixty 
servants  to  thirty,  while  all  letters  and  messages  sent 
out  or  received  had  to  pass  through  her  jailor's 
hands. 

Three  days  after  her  arrival  at  Tutbury,  a  surprise 
visit  was  paid  to  her  rooms  and  all  her  own  and  her 
servant's  coffers  ransacked,  while  men  with  loaded 
pistols  guarded  the  doors.  She  made  the  most  of  the 
indignity  both  to  Elisabeth  and  to  the  French 
ambassador.  Her  papers  she  had  had  the  prudence  to 
destroy.  She  had  probably  been  in  secret  communica- 
tion with  the  Northern  Lords.  Late  in  October,  Lord 
and  Lady  Northumberland  were  at  Wentworth  House 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Sheffield.  The  Lady  was 
eager  to  introduce  herself  into  the  household  at 
Tutbury  disguised  as  the  mid-wife  for  Bastian's 
wife.  Had  she  succeeded  she  had  meant  to  change 
clothes   with  the  Queen,  and  Mary,  once  in  friendly 


218  MARY  STUART 

Catholic  hands,  would  have  headed  the  Northern 
Rising  in  person  and  given  it  the  rallying  point  it 
needed. 

This  gallant,  generous,  ill-fated  rebellion  forms, 
with  the  Pilgrimage  of  Grace  and  the  Derwentwater 
Rebellion,  the  tragic  trilogy  of  the  loyal  and  conserva- 
tive North  of  England. 

Alva,  on  whose  co-operation  everything  turned, 
had  given  no  sign,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  who  was  to 
raise  the  Southern  Counties,  had  missed  his  chance 
and  was  in  the  Tower.  Northumberland  and  West- 
moreland were  half-hearted,  high-spirited  ladies  like 
Lady  Northumberland  were  precipitate,  devout  priests 
were  urgent,  and  noble  gentlemen,  like  old  Norton 
and  his  eleven  sons,  felt  their  honour  too  deeply 
engaged  to  retire. 

The  first  signal  to  Mary  that  her  friends  had  risen 
was  the  influx  of  a  hundred  armed  guards  into  her 
prison,  the  coming  and  going  of  mounted  scouts,  and 
the  throwing  up  of  embankments  round  the  house. 
The  alarm  of  her  jailors  must  have  filled  her  with 
exultation.  The  danger  grew  nearer,  the  rescuing 
host  was  within.  58  miles,  when  orders  came  suddenly 
from  court,  Huntington,  who  had  been  absent,  returned 
and  within  twenty-four  hours  Mary  was  carried  off  to 
Coventry.  There  she  had  to  be  accommodated  in  an 
inn  but  was  strictly  kept  from  all  concourse  of  people, 
the  two  Earls  jealously  watching  one  another.  For 
them  it  was  an  anxious  time.  Elisabeth's  ministers 
considered  the  chance  of  rescue  so  probable  that  it 
was  afterwards  believed  that  they  sent  down  the  Great 
Seal  to  Coventry  so  that  if  the  rebels  approached  in 
force,  the  Queen  might  be  suddenly  executed  with 
due  legality. 


THE  NORTHERN  RISING  219 

The  Northern  Rising  was  stamped  out  in  blood 
and  fire.  The  chiefs  fled  across  the  Border  to  Scot- 
land. M  urray  outraged  the  national  sense  of  hospitality 
by  taking  Northumberland  prisoner  and  using  him 
as  a  convenient  piece  in  the  game  he  was  playing 
with  Elisabeth.  Then  the  storm  died  down  and 
Mary  was  brought  back  to  Tutbury  where  the  rigour 
of  her  captivity  was  gradually  relaxed. 

In  January  1570  came  the  news  that  Murray  had 
been  assassinated,  shot  down  in  the  streets  of  Linlith- 
gow by  a  Hamilton  who  owed  him  a  private  grudge. 
Mary  made  no  pretence  of  concealing  her  satisfaction 
"  Bothwellhaugh  acted  without  any  prompting  from 
me,"  she  wrote  to  the  Cardinal,  "but  I  am  as 
grateful  to  him  as  if  it  had  been  done  by  my  advice." 
Out  of  her  French  dowry  she  settled  a  pension  on 
the  assassin. 

And  so  Murray  passes  out  of  the  story. 

If  history  were  written  on  the  principle  of  "  The 
Ring  and  the  Book,"  the  great  desideratum  for  the 
understanding  of  the  period  would  be  a  biography  of 
Murray.  We  know  the  events  from  Mary's  point  of 
view,  from  Elisabeth's  and  from  Knox's  ;  an  attempt 
has  been  made  to  unravel  the  subtleties  of  Lethington's 
changing  motives ;  poetry  has  even  thrown  a  doubt- 
ful light  on  the  disconcerting  commonplaceness  of 
Bothwell's  character ;  events  would  take  a  strangely 
altered  aspect  if  we  could  see  them  as  Murray  saw 
them,   "  through  his  fingers." 

Murray's  death  brought  little  advantage  to  Mary's 
party  in  Scotland.  Old  Lennox  was  sent  down  as 
Regent  and  guardian  of  the  little  king.  Our  old 
acquaintance  Randolph  accompanied  him  to  earn 
diligently  what  special  malediction  waits  on  those  who 


220  MARY  STUART 

are  the  direct  opposite  of  peacemakers.  An  English 
army  marched  across  the  Border  to  punish  Mary's 
supporters  for  the  protection  extended  to  Elisabeth's 
rebels. 

The  constant  ill  news  from  Scotland,  the  sufferings 
of  her  friends  cut  Mary  to  the  quick.  For  days  she 
would  go  about  with  eyelids  swollen  and  red  from 
weeping.  Often,  too,  ill  news  was  followed  by  the 
peculiar  malady  she  was  subject  to.  She  had  pro- 
longed fainting  fits  and  sickness,  such  as  she  had 
had  at  Jedburgh ;  at  other  times  she  had  feverish 
colds  and  the  old  weary  pain  in  her  side.  She 
never  minimised  her  sufferings,  they  were  useful 
for  playing  on  the  fears  and  feelings  of  her  cousin. 
Elisabeth  was  pitiless  with  the  pitilessness  of  a  self- 
satisfied,  sentimental  egotist,  but  she  had  a  curious 
anticipation  of  how  posterity  would  pronounce  between 
the  two  queens.  She  dreaded  above  all  things  that 
Mary  should  die  on  her  hands. 

To  understand  the  changing  and  apparently 
capricious  treatment  of  Mary  by  Elisabeth  it  would 
be  necessary  to  follow  every  movement  in  European 
politics.  With  the  sensitiveness  of  a  thermometer  the 
household  life  at  Tutbury  or  Sheffield  registered 
Elisabeth's  relations  to  the  courts  of  France  or  Spain. 
In  the  summer  of  1570,  it  again  suited  Elisabeth  to 
enter  into  negotiations  with  Mary  for  her  restoration 
and,  this  time,  with  such  apparent  seriousness  that  in 
October  Cecil  himself  and  Mildmay  were  sent  to 
make  arrangements  with  the  Scottish  Queen. 

The  Shrewsbury  household  had  moved  over  the 
hills  to  Chatsworth  that  summer  by  reason  of  the 
plague  which  was  devastating  the  country.  It  was 
prevalent  in  London  also,  especially  in  the  populous 


THE  NORTHERN  RISING  221 

district  about  the  Tower,  so  that  Norfolk  had  been 
released  in  August  and  was  only  kept  in  ward  in  his 
own  house.  Before  leaving  the  Tower,  he  had  given 
Elisabeth  a  written  promise  to  renounce  all  intention 
of  marrying  the  Queen  of  Scots  and  had  sealed  it 
with  his  arms.  This  was  the  last  door  through  which 
Norfolk  might  have  beaten  an  honourable  retreat,  and 
returned  to  the  conventional  loyalty  and  splendid 
nonentity  for  which  he  was  suited.  His  wishes  as 
well  as  his  honour  probably  pointed  that  way ;  but 
honour  unrelated  to  honesty  is  but  a  blind  leader  of 
the  blind.  Letters  from  Mary  expressing  absolute 
dependence  on  his  will  and  signed  "  Your  own,  my 
Norfolk,  faithful  to  death,"  confused  still  more  that 
troubled  sense  of  honour  and  committed  his  halting 
resolution.  "If  you  mind  not  to  shrink  in  this 
matter  I  will  die  and  live  with  you,"  she  wrote, 
"Your  fortune  shall  be  mine,  therefore  let  me  know 
in  all  things  your  mind." 

With  such  firm,  light  threads  the  web  was  woven 
from  which  he  found  no  escape. 

The  Norfolk  correspondence  was  only  one  of  the 
many  strands  Mary  held  in  her  hand.  She  was  in 
active  correspondence  with  Lethington,  now  the 
life  and  brain  of  her  party  in  Scotland.  Constant  plots 
were  made  for  her  escape.  Inside  and  outside  of 
the  Shrewsbury  household  romantic  young  gentlemen 
or  enterprising  agents  were  at  watch  and  ward. 
Some  trusty  servant  of  Mary  would  give  them 
rendezvous  at  daybreak  on  the  moors  above  Shef- 
field ;  the  height  from  the  ground  of  her  windows  was 
measured,  page's  or  scullion's  dresses  provided.  But 
Lethington's  advice  was  against  such  attempts,  the 
risk  was  too  great.     He  advised  unconditional  consent 


222  MARY  STUART 

to  Elisabeth's  terms  ;  once  restored  and  on  her  throne 
Mary  might  rescind  her  compliance. 

Besides  the  former  conditions  offered  to  Mary, 
there  were  two  at  which  she  demurred.  She  was  to 
hand  over  Northumberland  and  all  such  rebels  as 
were  in  the  custody  of  any  subject  of  Scotland. 
With  a  side  glance  at  the  treatment  she  was  herself 
receiving,  Mary  answered  that  it  might  not  stand 
with  her  honour  "  to  deliver  those  who  are  come  for 
refuge  within  her  country,  as  it  were,  to  enter  them  in 
a  place  of  execution." 

Another  point  was  her  placing  her  son  in  the 
hands  of  Elisabeth  to  be  brought  up  in  England. 
There  is  no  sign  that  Mary  had  any  motherly  yearn- 
ing over  her  poor,  deserted  little  son,  but  as  King  of 
Scotland  and  Elisabeth's  heir  he  was  a  valuable  piece 
in  her  game,  to  be  offered  to  Philip  of  Spain,  or  con- 
ceded to  Elisabeth,  as  policy  dictated.  The  most 
human  feeling  she  showed  in  connection  with  him  was 
the  outburst  of  indignation  when  she  heard  that 
George  Buchanan,  the  unscrupulous  defamer  of  the 
mother,  had  been  appointed  as  tutor  to  the  son. 
When  the  question  was  raised  at  Chatsworth  of  the 
boy's  education  in  England  Mary,  who  never  lost  an 
opportunity  of  gaining  a  friend,  wrote  to  his  grand- 
mother, old  Lady  Lennox,  to  consult  her  wishes. 
The  blandishment  had  no  effect  at  the  time,  but  two 
years  later  the  ladies  were  reconciled. 

It  was  thus  at  Chatsworth  that  Mary  had  her  first 
and  only  meeting  with  the  most  implacable  of  her 
opponents.  Cecil  was  the  more  dangerous  because 
his  opposition  was  entirely  on  public  grounds.  He 
was  probably  quite  sincere  when  he  praised  Mary  to 
Leslie  as  "a  lady  of  gentle  and  clement  disposition." 


THE  NORTHERN  RISING  223 

Had  she  been  an  angel  from  Heaven  his  feelings 
would  have  known  no  softening  as  long  as  she 
was  a  menace  to  Elisabeth  and  the  Protestant 
religion. 

Reluctantly,  and  with  small  faith  in  its  fulfilment, 
Mary  accepted  the  treaty,  taking  care  to  inform  the 
Pope  and  other  foreign  princes  of  all  it  cost  her  to 
concede  so  much  to  her  Protestant  enemies.  But  she 
did  definitely  accept  the  conditions. 

The  treaty  had  further  to  be  endorsed  by  three 
Scottish  Commissioners  of  her  party  and  three  of 
the  other  side.  Her  Commissioners  were  in  London 
and  ready  to  sign  by  December  but  Morton  Makgill 
and  Pitcairn,  who  were  to  sign  on  behalf  of  the  King's 
government,  delayed  their  coming  for  months  and 
then  came  only  to  raise  difficulties.  It  was  all  that 
Elisabeth  wanted.  She  had  grained  the  time  to  so 
deeply  into  negotiations  for  the  Anjou  marriage,  the 
political  game  she  was  playing  at  the  moment.  Fear- 
ing now  no  interference  of  France  in  Scottish  affairs 
she  could  afford  to  drop  all  further  reference  to  the 
treaty  with  Mary. 

It  is  small  wonder  and  quite  excusable  that  Mary 
came  to  regard  her  relations  to  her  cousin  as  simply 
a  state  of  war  in  which  cunning  and  dissimulation  were 
legitimate  weapons. 

She  had  had  a  wretched  winter  at  Sheffield  Castle, 
Lord  Shrewsbury's  chief  seat.  She  always  felt  the 
cold,  and  the  winter  was  rigorous.  She  had  one 
attack  so  alarming  that  two  doctors  were  sent  down 
to  attend  on  her.  Hope  deferred  tried  her  nerves  and 
suspended  for  a  time  her  active  plotting  but  by  March 
1 571,  having  lost  all  faith  in  the  treaty,  having  no 
hope  from  Scotland  and  seeing  France  closed  against 


224  MARY  STUART 

her  by  the  Anjou  courtship,  she  threw  herself  unre- 
servedly on  the  King  of  Spain,  inviting  him  definitely 
to  aid  her  cause  and  that  of  the  Catholics  by  an  in- 
vasion of  England. 

Three  men,  born  plotters  and  busy-bodies,  de 
Guerau,  the  Bishop  of  Ross,  and  Ridolfi,  a  rich 
Florentine  banker  in  London  and  at  the  same  time  a 
secret  agent  of  the  Pope,  arranged  all  the  details  of 
the  scheme  and  dragged  the  irresolute  Duke  of 
Norfolk  along  with  them. 

In  Mary's  letter  to  Philip  she  makes  no  pretence 
of  merely  asking  for  help  to  punish  her  rebels  in 
Scotland,  she  aims  distinctly  at  the  throne  of  England 
and  the  restoration  of  the  Catholic  religion.  She 
explains  that  others  besides  the  Catholics  are  dis- 
contented with  Elisabeth's  government,  and  excuses 
Norfolk's  delay  in  declaring  himself  a  Catholic  on  the 
ground  that  he  would  lose  his  influence  with  the 
Protestant  malcontents  by  such  a  step.  Addressing 
the  Pope  she  applies  for  release  from  her  "pretended 
marriage "  with  Bothwell,  telling  the  story  of  the 
abduction  in  the  incredible  and  colourless  form  in 
which  she  liked  to  think  of  it  in  later  years.  To  pro- 
pitiate Philip,  she  was  emphatic  that  no  one  in  France, 
not  even  her  own  kinsfolk,  should  have  an  inkling  of 
the  conspiracy. 

The  accompanying  letter  from  the  Duke  of  Norfolk 
was  concerned  with  the  numbers  and  arms  of  the  in- 
vading Spanish  army.  He  gave  definite  promise  of 
co-operation  and  discussed  the  ports  suitable  for  a 
landing.  A  list  was  added  of  the  English  nobility 
marked  according  to  their  several  sentiments ;  a 
majority  was  marked  as  favourable  to  a  change  of 
government.     Armed  with  these  letters   Ridolfi  first 


THE  RIDOLFI  CONSPIRACY  225 

visited  Alva  at  Brussels,  then  went  to  Rome  and  ended 
at  Seville  where  he  found  the  Spanish  king. 

Slow  to  take  up  ideas  as  he  was,  Philip  was 
certainly  arrested  by  a  plan  so  distinct  and  promises 
so  definite.  Alva,  his  hands  full  with  rebellion  ferment- 
ing in  the  Netherlands  and  discontent  in  his  army, 
saw  difficulties.  Of  the  plan,  it  is  true,  he  approved,  but 
it  must  be  on  the  clear  understanding  that  the  English 
Catholics  would  undertake,  by  some  means  or  other, 
to  remove  Queen  Elisabeth.  Only  when  this  was  an 
accomplished  fact  would  he  advise  his  master  to  risk 
so  great  an  enterprise  as  an  invasion.  The  Pope, 
Pius  V.,  smoothed  the  way  for  conscientious  Catholics 
by  launching  a  Bull  of  excommunication  against 
Elisabeth.  Even  in  Catholic  times  these  missiles  had 
fallen  innocuously  on  our  shores ;  in  the  Protestant 
days  of  Elisabeth  the  Bull  fell  practically  unnoticed. 

So  the  plot  halted  between  the  timidity  of  Norfolk, 
who  would  not  move  till  backed  by  an  invading  army, 
and  the  prudence  of  Philip,  who  would  not  move  till 
the  English  Catholics  were  committed  to  open  re- 
bellion ;  sorry  allies  these  for  the  fiery  fettered  spirit  at 
Sheffield ! 

Modern  ingenuity  has  invented  no  detective  story 
of  more  engrossing  interest  than  the  method  by  which, 
stage  after  stage,  the  Ridolfi  conspiracy  was  brought 
to  light  by  Cecil  and  his  agents.  But  the  fascination 
of  such  stories  lies  in  detail  and  slow  development, 
and  for  these  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  pages  of 
Mr  Froude  where  full  justice  is  done  to  every  ingenious 
and  painful  particular. 

The  chief  minister  of  state,  deliberately  ordering 
poor  wretches  to  the  rack,  or,  worse,  surprising  their 
confidences    through    the    hypocritical    sympathy    of 


226  MARY  STUART 

spies  masquerading  as  fellow-sufferers,  is  a  hideous 
spectacle,  however  much  we  may  apply  a  trained 
historical  imagination  to  the  study  of  the  facts. 

Small  treacheries  sicken  one  more  than  great 
betrayals,  when  they  trade  on  some  generous  or  com- 
passionate instinct  in  the  victim.  Burghley,  in  some 
treacherous  game  which  he  and  Sir  John  Hawkins 
were  playing  with  the  Spanish  king,  required  for  his 
tool  a  letter  of  credit  from  the  Scottish  Queen.  It 
made  it  no  better  that  the  honest  Catholic  gentleman, 
employed  for  this  end,  was  himself  a  dupe.  He  was 
introduced  to  Mary  as  one  having  friends  in  a  Spanish 
dungeon  on  whose  behalf  he  begged  for  her  good 
offices  with  Philip.  There  is  a  touching  dignity  in 
her  reply.  She  seemed  doubtful  at  first,  yet  said  that 
"  She  must  pity  all  prisoners  for  that  she  was  used  as 
one  herself,  having  all  intelligence  taken  from  her  ;  yet 
she  would  do  any  pleasure  she  could  to  relieve  any 
Englishman  out  of  prison."  "  All  intelligence  taken 
from  her,"  that  was  one  of  the  nightmare  conditions 
of  her  captivity. 

All  summer  (i 57 1)  Burghley  and  his  servants  were 
seeking  for  more  evidence  of  the  plot.  The  Bishop  of 
Ross  put  them  off  with  half  admissions ;  he  and  his 
mistress  had  been  in  correspondence  with  Philip  and 
Alva,  but  only  with  regard  to  help  against  the  rebels 
of  Scotland. 

So  far  nothing  could  be  traced  to  Norfolk  and  his 
friends,  Lumley  and  Arundel.  In  September  the  clue 
to  the  whole  matter  came  accidentally  into  Cecil's 
hands.  The  Anjou  courtship  notwithstanding,  the 
French  government,  was  unwilling  to  lose  all  hold  on 
Mary.  A  sum  of  six  hundred  pounds  destined  for  the 
Queen's  party  in  Scotland  was  sent  under  cover  to  La 


THE  RIDOLFI  CONSPIRACY        227 

Mothe,  the  French  ambassador  ;  it  was  to  be  conveyed 
by  means  furnished  by  the  Duke  of  Norfolk.  With 
the  slackness  in  detail,  characteristic  of  a  weak  man,  he 
left  the  arrangement  of  the  matter  to  his  secretary,  who 
entrusted  the  money  and  a  letter  in  cipher  to  a  casual 
burgess  of  Shrewsbury  returning  to  his  city  from  the 
Capital.  The  man's  curiosity  discovered  the  nature 
of  the  packet  he  carried,  and  his  discretion  conveyed 
the  discovery  at  once  to  Cecil. 

The  paper,  when  deciphered,  told  something  ;  Nor- 
folk's servants  taken  prisoners,  examined  separately 
(each  being  threatened  with  the  other's  admissions), 
and  tortured  on  the  rack,  betrayed  all  they  knew. 
One  of  them,  Higford,  had  been  entrusted  with  the 
burning  of  all  letters  received  from  Mary  or  Leslie. 
He  had  treacherously  preserved  them  and  now  pro- 
duced them  from  their  hiding-place.  The  game  was 
up,  and  even  the  Bishop  of  Ross,  when  threatened 
with  death  or  the  rack,  made  a  full  avowal  of  what 
had  passed  between  Norfolk  and  Mary.  In  the 
excitement  of  abject  terror  the  bishop  is  said  to  have 
uttered  the  wildest  calumnies  against  his  mistress 
calumnies  which  leave  Mary's  reputation  where  it  was 
and  only  prove  the  wretched,  hysterical  stuff  the 
bishop  was  made  of. 

"  She  was,"  he  cried,  "  unfit  for  any  husband.  She 
poisoned  her  first  husband,  consented  to  the  murder 
of  Darnley,  brought  Bothwell  to  the  field  to  be 
murdered,  and  last  of  all  she  pretended  marriage  with 
the  Duke  of  Norfolk  with  whom  she  would  not  long 
have  kept  faith." 

"  Lord ! "  cried  Dr  Wilson,  who  conducted  the 
examination,  "  what  a  people !  and  what  a  queen  !  and 
what  an  ambassador  !  " 


228  MARY  STUART 

Norfolk  made  no  fight  at  all.  Confronted  with 
the  accusation  against  him,  he  wept  and  fell  on  his 
knees.  At  first  he  was  prepared  to  deny  everything, 
then,  seeing  that  all  was  known  he  cried  bitterly,  "  I 
am  undone." 

Yet  at  the  end  he  stood  his  trial  with  a  simple 
patience  not  without  dignity.  To  Elisabeth  he 
wrote  a  sincere  and  sorrowful  letter  commending-  his 
children  to  her  kindness.  Of  the  woman  who,  unseen 
and  unloved,  had  been  the  cause  of  his  treason  he 
spoke  with  a  fearful  shrinking  :  "  He  vows  to  God  that 
if  he  had  to  choose  to  have  that  woman  in  marriage 
or  death,  he  would  rather  take  this  death,  that  now  he 
is  going  to,  a  hundred  times." 

It  is  a  commonplace,  with  which  dramatic  art  has 
made  us  familiar,  that  when  a  man  and  woman  are 
partners  in  some  secret  and  unlawful  undertaking,  it 
is  the  woman  who  knows  neither  faltering,  nor 
remorse.  In  this  case,  indeed,  the  guilt  of  Mary  and 
of  Norfolk  were  incommensurate.  He  was  prepared 
to  betray  his  country,  his  faith  and  his  sovereign,  and 
to  break  his  plighted  word ;  Mary  was  carrying  on  an 
old  and  recognised  quarrel  with  the  only  weapons 
possible  to  a  captive. 

On  the  eighth  of  September  (i 57 1)  she  was 
suddenly  confronted  by  Lord  Shrewsbury  with  letters 
from  Elisabeth.  All  was  known,  her  efforts  to  escape, 
her  traffickings  with  Norfolk  and  with  the  King;  of 
Spain,  all  the  plans  for  the  Spanish  Invasion.  At  once 
her  household  was  to  be  reduced  to  sixteen,  all  the 
rest  of  her  servants  were  to  be  dismissed  at  two  hours' 
notice,  the  French  to  France,  the  Scots  to  their  own 
country. 

Sudden  dangers,  such  as  this,  always  called  out 


THE  RLDOLFI  CONSPIRACY         229 

every  faculty  in  Mary,  not  only  her  courage  and 
defiance  and  practical  alertness  but  the  greatness  and 
faithfulness  of  her  heart.  The  accusations  she  brushed 
aside  either  with  flat  denial  or  the  haughty  declaration 
that  she  was  an  independent  princess  and  answerable 
to  no  one.  At  first  she  looked  upon  death  as  inevit- 
able, and  the  thought  of  her  own  death  always  left 
her  unmoved,  but  for  her  servants,  her  "  little  flock," 
she  was  full  of  grief  and  thronging  fears.  Turned 
suddenly  adrift  in  a  strange  and  hostile  land,  how 
would  they  fare  ?  With  what  fate  would  her  faithful 
Scots  meet,  returning  to  a  country  where  their  home- 
steads were  unroofed,  their  names  defamed,  their 
enemies  in  power?  About  two  she  was  specially 
concerned,  Master  John  Gordon,  a  learned  young 
Scottish  gentleman  who  had  written  in  her  defence, 
and  Willie  Douglas,  the  boy  whose  courage  and 
cleverness  had  contrived  her  escape  from  Loch  Leven. 
There  is,  in  her  special  message  to  him,  a  kindness  that 
is  both  royal  and  loyal.  "  As  for  you,  Willie  Douglas, 
be  assured  that  the  life  you  risked  for  mine  shall 
never  be  destitute  as  long  as  I  have  a  friend  alive." 

She  wrote  on  behalf  of  her  servants  to  the  French 
ambassador,  to  Burghley,  to  her  own  ambassador  at 
Paris.  The  two  hours  were  lengthened  into  several 
days,  and  on  the  eighteenth  she  addressed  a  collective 
letter  to  all  who  were  leaving-  her. 

It  is  difficult  to  write  of  this  letter.  We  have 
grown  familiar  with  Mary  in  her  deep  and  complicated 
dissimulation.  At  this  very  time  she  was  defiantly 
denying  her  own  acts,  lying  without  misgiving.  Yet 
who  dare  say  that  this  letter  to  the  servants,  who 
loved  her  and  whom  she  loved,  is  other  than  heartfelt 
and  sincere  ?     It  is  noble  in  its  patience,  its  earnest- 


230  MARY  STUART 

ness,  its  concern  for  the  souls  of  those  for  whom  she 
feels  herself  responsible.  She  prays  them  to  be 
patient,  to  hold  fast  the  true  Catholic  faith — knowing 
that  out  of  the  Ark  of  Noah,  there  is  no  salvation — 
she  bids  them  live  in  peace  with  one  another,  com- 
mends them  to  her  kinsfolk  in  France  and  begs  them 
to  believe  that,  if  she  had  failed  in  any  way  as  their 
mistress  it  was  never  from  lack  of  will  but  only  from 
lack  of  power.  She  begs  that  some  of  them  on  arriv- 
ing in  France,  will  carry  her  farewell  to  the  old  grand- 
mother at  Joinville,  and  sends  messages  to  her  special 
friends,  to  George  Douglas,  Lord  Fleming,  and  the 
good  old  Archbishop  of  Glasgow. 

For  herself  she  bids  them  not  to  sorrow.  If  her 
time  is  come  to  die  her  one  regret  will  be  that  she  is 
unable  to  reward  them  better. 

The  rigours  of  her  captivity  increased,  her  re- 
maining servants  might  not  go  beyond  the  gates  nor 
speak  to  Lord  Shrewsbury's  household.  She  was 
confined  to  her  own  rooms.  A  horrible  contrivance 
was  proposed,  a  false  door  by  which  at  any  time,  by 
day  or  night,  her  jailors  might  intrude  upon  her. 
Once  or  twice  as  a  concession  Lord  Shrewsbury  took 
her  to  walk  on  the  Castle  leads,  "or  in  his  large  dining- 
room  with  himself  or  his  wife  in  her  company  avoiding 
all  other's  talk,  either  to  herself  or  any  of  hers."  An 
exhilarating  form  of  exercise ! 

Her  letter  to  Elisabeth  of  29th  October  has  the 
pathetic  dignity  of  a  dying  appeal,  though  there  is  a 
sting  in  the  prayer  with  which  it  closes  that  Elisabeth's 
heart  may  be  acceptable  to  God  and  profitable  to 
herself.  Looking  only  for  death,  Mary  makes  three 
requests  for  herself.  She  begs  for  the  presence  of 
one   of   the   French    Embassy    with    whom    she    can 


THE  RIDOLFI  CONSPIRACY         231 

arrange  her  temporal  concerns,  her  debts  and  the 
pensions  of  her  servants.  She  begs  to  have  a  priest 
who  may  give  her  consolation,  and  finally  she  begs 
permission  to  write  a  farewell  letter  to  her  son. 

She  asked  for  bread  and  they  flung  her  a  stone, 
for  fish  and  they  gave  her  a  serpent.  A  month 
later  she  writes  in  bitter  indignation  to  the  French 
ambassador.  The  messenger  who  had  carried  to 
Elisabeth  her  request  for  a  priest  brought  down 
instead  of  the  consolations  of  religion,  a  book  of 
defamation  and  calumny  by  "the  Atheist  Buchanan." 
It  was  of  course  the  notorious  "  Detectio  "  in  which 
all  the  painful  and  shameful  episodes  of  her  life  were 
interwoven  with  coarse  scandals,  exaggerations  and 
lewd  interpretations. 

Sick,  defeated,  isolated  from  all  counsellors, 
ignorant  even  of  what  was  being  unravelled,  she 
kept  her  courage  high  and  her  wits  sharp  and 
clear. 

Elisabeth  had  evidently  sent  her  a  letter  detailing 
all  her  own  good  and  gracious  deeds,  her  cousin's 
perfidies  and  ingratitude,  and  Mary  meets  her  point 
by  point.  Elisabeth  was  hard  put  to  it  when  she 
counted  it  a  virtue  that  she  had  refused  to  accept 
Mary's  crown  when  offered  to  her  by  Mary's  subjects. 
Mary  expresses  amazement  at  this,  the  first  news 
she  has  had  of  any  such  obligation,  and  wonders  if 
her  subjects  would  acknowledge  the  facts  and  insinu- 
ates that  it  would  only  be  of  a  piece  with  their  later 
rebellion  in  which  they  have  had  support  from 
Elisabeth.     A  hit,  a  palpable  hit. 

When  Elisabeth  lays  claim  to  having  rescued  her 
life  from  the  vengeance  of  her  own  subjects,  Mary 
prefers  to  attribute  her  safety  to  the  good  offices  of  the 


232  MARY  STUART 

French  king,  and  points  out  that  on  two  later  occasions 
Elisabeth  was  prepared  to  hand  her  over  to  Murray 
and  to  Lennox  severally,  and  "God  knows  how  often 
since."  This  shaft  went  nearer  the  mark  than  the 
archer  knew. 

Her  acceptance  of  the  office  of  godmother  to  the 
little  prince  is  another  benefit  put  to  her  own  credit 
by  Elisabeth.  Perhaps  the  honour  was  the  other 
way  is  Mary's  answer.  At  least  the  French  king 
was  content  to  accept  it  as  such,  and  but  for  doing 
Elisabeth  honour,  her  old  friend  the  Spanish  Queen 
would  have  been  a  more  natural  choice. 

But  the  finest  stroke  is  when  Mary  recalls  to 
Elisabeth  three  occasions,  still  held  by  her  in  grateful 
recollection,  on  which  kindness  was  really  shown  to 
her  by  Elisabeth.  The  friendly  patronage  extended 
to  the  Guises  at  Mary's  request  the  year  of  her  return 
to  Scotland  ;  the  ring  sent  with  the  assurance  that 
it  would  always  be  a  talisman  to  secure  Elisabeth's 
support  in  any  time  of  need ;  and,  thirdly,  a  certain 
Parliament  where  Elisabeth  had  supported  Mary's 
claim  to  the  succession.  Facts  that  must  have  made 
Elisabeth  wince. 

Lord  Shrewsbury  was  among  the  Peers  who  tried 
the  Duke  of  Norfolk.  While  he  was  necessarily 
absent  Sir  Ralph  Sadler — Mary's  earliest  acquaint- 
ance among  Englishmen — took  his  place.  During 
the  days  of  Norfolk's  trial  Mary  remained  shut  up  in 
her  rooms  shrinking  from  the  callous  tongues  that 
never  spared  her  reproaches  and  reflections. 

Delight  in  carrying  ill  news  of  any  kind  belongs 
to  vulgar  natures.  When  the  news  of  Norfolk's  con- 
demnation  arrived  at  Sheffield  Lady  Shrewsbury 
hurried  to  Mary's  rooms  to  be  the  first  to  tell.     But 


THE  RIDOLFI  CONSPIRACY         233 

the  tidings  had  travelled  faster  than  she.  She  found 
the  queen  "  all  bewept  and  mourning."  "  Thereupon," 
adds  Sadler,  "the  queen  became  silent  and  had  no 
will  to  talk  more  of  the  matter."  A  day  or  two  later 
he  writes  again,  "  she  is  fallen  into  great  contempla- 
tion, fasting  and  prayer,"  and  he  adds  a  Protestant 
sneer  at  the  inadequacy  of  such  measures  to  help  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk. 

One  advantage  Mary  reaped  from  the  rigorous 
seclusion  of  the  months  that  followed.  She  withdrew 
herself  definitely  from  attendance  at  the  Anglican 
forms  of  worship.  In  her  heart  she  had  never  wavered 
in  devotion  to  the  Church  of  her  faith,  but  for  political 
reasons  she  had  given  the  Church  of  England  a  fair 
hearing.  All  through  one  Lenten  season  preachers 
from  Coventry  had  preached  before  her  (and  some- 
times at  her),  but  after  hearing  them  all  she  had  not 
found  two  who  agreed  as  to  doctrine. 

From  the  date  of  Norfolk's  death  onwards  she 
never  made  the  smallest  approaches  to  Anglicanism. 
More  and  more,  every  year,  did  she  identify  herself 
with  the  cause  of  the  Church.  Her  sufferings  were 
part  of  the  storm  and  stress  that  Church  was  under- 
going for  the  present  in  England.  Her  endless 
plotting  and  scheming — with  all  the  lying  and 
dissimulation  which  they  involved — were,  she  per- 
suaded herself,  as  much  for  the  cause  of  God  and 
His  Church  as  for  her  own  freedom  and  greatness. 
And  undoubtedly  this  thought  did  give  her  constancy 
and  vigour  where  otherwise  even  her  vitality  would 
have  been  worn  down  by  years  of  thwarted  and 
fallacious  hopes.  In  her  own  inner  life,  alongside  of 
the  restless  plotting,  there  grew  up  a  strange  patience. 
Inasmuch  as  they  came    from  hostile  and   powerful 


234  MARY  STUART 

human  beings,  she  would  resent  her  wrongs  and  fight 
for  revenge  up  to  the  last  breath  with  concentrated 
bitterness,  but  these  same  wrongs  wore  a  different 
aspect  when  she  laid  them  as  a  sacrifice  on  the  altar 
and  drew  from  thence  the  consolations  of  religion. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

LIFE    AT    SHEFFIELD 
!572 — I58° 

MARY  had  written  that  God  alone  knew  how 
often  Elisabeth  had  offered  to  deliver  her  up 
into  the  hands  of  her  enemies. 

The  most  dastardly  offer  of  this  kind  was  made  in 
the  autumn  of  1572.  Scarcely  had  the  disquietude 
caused  by  the  discovery  of  the  Norfolk  plot  settled 
down,  when  the  news  of  the  St  Bartholomew  Massacre 
(Aug.  1572)  spread  panic  through  the  country.  Men 
looked  every  moment  for  some  Catholic  demonstration 
and,  as  usual,  located  the  danger  at  Sheffield.  Elisabeth 
was  urged  to  let  the  same  vengeance  fall  on  Mary  that 
had  overtaken  Norfolk.  Elisabeth  had  a  horror  of 
violence,  she  shrank  from  pain,  especially  from  pain- 
ful decisions.  How  little  pity  had  to  do  with  her 
obstinate  refusal  to  take  her  cousin's  life  is  proved  by 
the  cowardly  scheme  she  formed  of  getting  rid  of  her 
prisoner  without  incurring  responsibility  or  dangerous 
consequences. 

In  a  private  Council  of  herself,  Leicester  and 
Burghley,  it  was  resolved  to  send  Killegrew  on  a  secret 
mission  to  Scotland.  He  was  to  persuade  Mar,  the 
Regent,  and  Morton  the  virtual  ruler,  to  receive  Mary 
back  into  her  own  country  and  to  undertake  to  have 
her  executed  within  four  hours  of  her  return.    To  make 

matters  comfortable  for  Elisabeth,  the  demand  was  to 

235 


236  MARY  STUART 

come,  as  it  were,  spontaneously  from  the  Scottish  side. 
By  September  Killegrew  was  in  Scotland.  Mar  at 
first  made  demur — the  Erskines  had  so  far  kept  them- 
selves comparatively  clean  from  blood — but  Morton 
knew  no  scruples.  It  was  for  his  interest  to  get  Mary 
out  of  the  way,  he  went  also  on  the  settled  plan  of 
keeping  on  terms  with  the  Queen  of  England.  But  in 
matters  of  life  and  death,  as  in  matters  of  faith  and 
salvation,  Morton's  first  eye  was  always  on  the  business 
aspect.  If  they  were  to  incur  such  invidious  responsi- 
bility, Elisabeth  must  make  it  worth  their  while. 
Mary  must  be  accompanied  by  some  nobleman  of 
weight,  Bedford  or  Huntington,  and  by  two  or  three 
thousand  soldiers.  These,  having  witnessed  the 
execution,  were  then  to  help  in  besieging  the  Castle 
where  Mary's  friends  still  made  a  stand.  The  final, 
most  characteristic  demand  was  that  Elisabeth  should 
pay  all  arrears  owing  to  the  soldiers  of  the  King's  party. 
,  Either  Elisabeth  found  these  terms  too  high  or  the 
sudden  death  of  the  Regent  Mar  put  a  stop  to  the 
negotiations,  at  any  rate  the  scandalous  scheme  was 
suffered  to  drop  out.  Morton  succeeded  as  Regent. 
Six  months  later  at  the  end  of  May  1573  the  Castle 
fell  and  with  it  the  last  hopes  of  Mary's  party  in  Scot- 
land. 

A  few  months  earlier,  with  the  pitiless  levity  that 
served  only  to  emphasise  the  grimness  of  the  country 
and  epoch,  the  St  Andrews  students  had  entertained 
Knox  with  a  dramatic  representation  of  the  fall  of  the 
Castle.  Later,  on  his  death-bed,  Knox  had  prophesied 
concerning  his  old  friend  Grange  that  he  should  be 
hung  with  his  face  against  the  sun  ;  ominous  signs, 
both,  of  the  temper  of  the  people. 

A  lost  cause,  a  garrison  mostly  sick,  the  healthy 


LIFE  AT  SHEFFIELD  237 

remnant  mutinous,  Lethington  so  worn  with  disease 
that  the  firing  of  the  guns  caused  him  intolerable 
anguish,  most  of  Mary's  jewels  pawned  and  the 
exchequer  empty ;  yet  even  under  such  conditions, 
Grange  might  have  held  out  if  English  guns  from 
across  the  Norloch  had  not  battered  the  Castle  walls 
and  set  them  "  running  like  sand,"  as  Knox  had  seen 
them  in  his  vision.  To  Morton  the  Captain  refused 
to  yield,  but  from  Drury,  the  English  general,  he  de- 
manded the  terms  due  to  honourable  foes. 

There  is  a  piteous  letter  written  by  Lethington 
and  Grange,  both  proud  men,  to  Cecil,  recalling  the 
days  of  their  old  intimacy  and  begging  for  his  inter- 
vention. It  was  all  in  vain.  It  suited  Elisabeth's 
policy  to  hand  them  over  to  Morton,  and  Morton  was 
pitiless.  Lethington  was  saved  by  timely  death,  from 
what  he  most  dreaded,  a  public  execution.  So 
perished  miserably  for  a  cause  he  had  betrayed,  the 
finest  wit  and  most  enlightened  intelligence  in  Scot- 
land. After  the  revolting  custom  of  the  day  his 
enemies  would  have  kept  the  dead  body  unburied  till 
it  had  been  tried  and  condemned  in  open  court  if  the 
heart-broken  entreaties  of  Mary  Fleming  had  not 
moved  Cecil  to  remonstrate. 

Grange  had  been  Morton's  friend  and  had  acted 
by  his  side  in  sundry  affairs.  This  was  no  deterrent 
to  Morton's  determination  to  have  him  out  of  the 
way.  He  was  hung  "  with  his  face  against  the  sun  " 
to  pacify  the  clamours  of  the  preachers.  History 
has  few  tragedies  more  complete  than  the  fall  of  the 
Castle.  On  June  7th  the  news  reached  Sheffield.  It 
added  a  pang  to  Mary's  sufferings  that  ill  news  was 
always  conveyed  by  those  eager  to  mark  how  she  bore 
herself  under   it.       "  She    makes    little    show  of  any 


238  MARY  STUART 

grief,"  wrote  Lord  Shrewsbury,  "and  yet  it  nips  her 
very  near." 

Her  cause  in  Scotland  fell  with  the  fall  of  the  Castle, 
(May  1 573)  just  as  in  England  it  had  seemed  to  fall  with 
the  execution  of  Norfolk.  In  neither  case  was  Mary's 
grief  mainly  selfish.  A  Scottish  nobleman  of  the  time 
complained  bluntly  that  foreign  princes  treated  their 
servants  like  "de  vieilles  bottes,"  and  we  have  seen 
how  callously  Elisabeth  would  sacrifice  any  servant  to 
save  her  purse  or  her  credit.  In  this  Mary  differed 
from  all  other  princes.  She  had  never  lost  her  affection 
for  Mary  Fleming,  twelve  years  later  she  was  eager 
to  have  her  company  and  service,  and  Mary  Fleming 
was  equally  willing  to  share  her  mistress'  captivity, 
but  from  one  cause  and  another  the  project  came  to 
nothing. 

The  years  that  lie  between  1573  and  1580,  seven 
tedious  years,  were  to  all  appearance  the  quietest  and 
least  eventful  of  Mary's  captivity.  It  seemed  as  if, 
for  this  spell,  Europe  had  agreed  to  ignore  the 
"  daughter  of  debate "  and  her  claims,  each  ruler 
turning  to  his  own  particular  problem. 

Philip  of  Spain  never  lost  sight  of  Mary  as  a 
weapon  for  menacing  Elisabeth  when  the  time 
should  be  ripe  for  his  great  enterprise,  but  Philip's 
faith  in  time — "  io  y  el  tiempo  " — only  grew  greater 
as  available  time  shortened.  Meantime,  with  the 
Turk  in  the  Mediterranean,  rebellion  growing  com- 
pact and  formidable  in  the  Netherlands,  and  English 
gentlemen  adventurers  harassing  Spanish  fleets  on 
the  high  seas  and  even  on  the  Spanish  Main, 
Philip's  hands  were  full.  The  Queen  of  Scots  was 
not  forgotten,  but  she  must  wait. 

Henry   III.    had   succeeded   Charles    IX.  on  the 


HENRY    III,    KING   OF   FRANCE 


LIFE  AT  SHEFFIELD  239 

throne  of  France,  inheriting  also  the  fierce  religious 
strife  that  was  wearing  down  the  life  of  the  country. 
The  friendship  of  the  English  queen  was  essential 
to  the  French  king,  the  freedom  of  his  sister-in-law 
would  add  nothing  either  to  his  strength  or  security. 
By  a  stretch  of  the  old  courtesy  the  French  ambas- 
sador was  enjoined  to  act  for  Mary.  It  was  he 
who,  reluctantly,  conveyed  her  letters  and  messages 
to  Queen  Elisabeth,  the  endless,  worrying  business 
of  her  dowry  passed  through  the  embassy,  even 
Mary's  numerous  shopping  commissions  seem  to  have 
been  attended  to  by  the  amiable  de  La  Mothe  and 
his  successor  Castelnan  de  Mauvissiere. 

For  a  time  Mary  ceased  to  struggle  with  Elisa- 
beth. Instead  of  letters  of  angry  remonstrance,  where 
mother-wit  steeped  in  gall  scored  point  after  point 
against  her  correspondent,  we  have  now  letters — 
more  painful  to  read — of  patient  resignation  and 
plaintive  appeals. 

As  the  years  slipped  on  and  small  indulgences 
were  granted  her  and  increased  benignity  in  Elisabeth's 
letters  gave  Mary  hopes  of  winning  her  cousin's 
favour,  she  began  to  shower  gifts  on  the  English 
Queen.  French  confections  were  presented  in  her 
name  by  the  French  ambassador.  Mary  set  her  uncle 
the  Cardinal's  wits  to  work  to  find  suitable  devices 
and  mottoes  which,  engraved  on  ornaments  after  the 
sentimental  fashion  of  the  day,  might  convey  her 
feelings  towards  her  cousin.  She  had  a  feminine 
genius  for  millinery  and  invented  and  executed 
miracles  of  lace  and  gauze  and  needlework.  Presents 
of  sleeves,  head-dresses  and  ruffles  were  sent  to 
court  as  propitiatory  offerings.  Elisabeth  was  as 
greedy   over   a   ruffle   as    over    a    revenue,    yet   she 


240  MARY  STUART 

had  some  twinges  of  shame  in  accepting  so  much 
and  giving  nothing  in  return.  With  humorous 
effrontery  she  bade  the  ambassador  warn  her  young 
cousin  that  as  people  grew  old  they  accepted  with 
two  hands  and  gave  with  one  finger. 

In  no  point  is  the  contrast  between  the  cousins 
greater  than  in  this  matter  of  giving.  Elisabeth 
provided  so  illiberally  for  Mary's  expenses  that 
Shrewsbury  was  always  out  of  pocket.  At  one  stroke 
she  reduced  his  monthly  allowance  from  ,£120  to  ^80, 
and  while  she  impoverished  the  poor,  faithful  gentle- 
man, she  fretted  him  into  nervous  fevers  by  her 
constant  suspicions. 

By  instinct,  even  more  than  by  policy,  Mary  was 
open-handed  and  considerate.  On  one  occasion  there 
was  some  confusion  about  an  apothecary's  bill.  She 
wrote  promptly  to  the  French  ambassador  bidding 
him  settle  it  without  dispute.  She  would,  she  said, 
rather  pay  twice  over  than  defraud  the  poor  man  or 
distress  him  with  unjust  suspicions.  Her  open  hand 
and  frank  courtesy  won  her  everywhere  friends  and 
servants.  Guard  her  as  closely  as  he  might,  Shrews- 
bury was  at  all  times  uneasily  aware  of  letters  and 
messages  passing  from  hand  to  hand,  finding  their 
way  to  and  from  the  prisoner  for  whom  he  was 
responsible. 

Mary's  usual  abode  was  at  Sheffield  Castle,  a 
lordly  dwelling  lying  in  nine  miles  of  richly  wooded 
park.  Just  beyond  the  Castle  gates  lay  the  busy, 
thriving  little  town,  and  in  it  many  idle  or  daring 
spirits  open  to  a  bribe  or  ready  for  an  adventure. 
In  vain  Shrewsbury  tried  to  keep  Mary's  people  from 
contact  with  the  outer  world.  A  main  danger  seems 
to  have  been  the  laundresses.      It  was  characteristic 


LIFE  AT  SHEFFIELD  241 

of  the  time  that  while  embroiderers — male  and 
female — were  an  integral  part  of  all  great  households, 
the  washing  was  either  given  out  or  laundresses  came 
in  to  their  work  and  returned  at  night  to  their  homes. 
Linen  baskets  offered  admirable  hiding-places  for 
letters  or  other  parcels  and,  if  we  are  to  believe  Lord 
Shrewsbury  and  Sir  Amyas  Paulet,  washerwomen 
were  a  venal  class. 

A  curious  lot  of  servants  and  messengers  Mary 
had  in  her  service.  We  read  of  one  Kynlough,  "  a 
learned  man  or  conjuror,"  Caldwell  a  schoolmaster, 
a  glover  also  and  a  porter  who  had  their  rendezvous 
at  the  house  of  an  ale-brewer,  Staining  Lane, 
London.  There  was  also  "  a  Thames  waterman  with 
a  squint "  who  was  Morgan's  man  and  conveyed  letters 
between  London  and  the  Scottish  Queen. 

This  Morgan,  a  Welshman,  had  been  Shrewsbury's 
secretary  in  the  early  days  of  Mary's  captivity,  but 
had  been  dismissed  on  suspicion  of  dealing  with  her. 
He  settled  in  Paris  ostensibly  to  manage  the  business 
of  her  dowry  ;  later  on  we  shall  find  him  deep  in  all 
the  plots  of  Guise  and  Spain.  He  was  her  chief  agent 
and  had  her  entire  confidence.  Another  of  Shrews- 
bury's servants,  the  tutor  of  his  boys,  managed  his 
services  to  the  Queen  so  discreetly  that  for  two  years 
his  master  refused  to  admit  any  suspicion  of  him. 

Seven  years  they  were  of  deadly  monotony. 
Occasional  changes  of  abode  were  necessary.  When 
Mary's  rooms  at  the  Castle  required  to  be  "  sweetened  " 
— and  in  those  insanitary  days,  spring  cleanings  were 
even  more  imperative  than  in  our  times  of  smoke  and 
gas — she  was  removed  to  the  Manor.  This  was  a 
house  lying  on  the  edge  of  a  high  tableland  about  two 
miles  from  the  Castle,  commanding  wide  open  views 

Q 


242  MARY  STUART 

of  beautiful  hill  country.  But  to  one  constantly  re- 
strained in  the  house  and  only  allowed  exercise  under 
restrictions,  fine  air  and  open  country  are  but  Tantalus' 
gifts. 

Mary's  health  was  always  ailing.  Rheumatism 
and  an  affection  of  the  liver  added  the  weight  of 
depression  to  her  other  sorrows.  Every  year  Elisabeth 
gave  reluctant  permission  to  her  cousin  to  visit  the 
spa  at  Buxton,  and  then  in  agitation  tried  to  recall  or 
limit  it.  Such  were  the  outward  changes  of  Mary's 
life. 

Inside,  the  days  passed  dully  enough.  "We  live 
here  the  life  of  a  convent,"  she  wrote  once  to  her 
uncle.  Prayers  and  the  offices  of  the  Church  occupied 
much  of  the  time.  She  was  concerned  to  keep  alive 
the  religious  life  of  her  household.  Sometimes  a 
chaplain  was  vouchsafed  to  her  :  once,  when  there  was 
a  difficulty  about  this,  a  devoted  priest  in  disguise 
obtained  a  situation  as  a  gardener  at  the  Castle. 
When  plots  and  persecutions  were  toward,  she  was 
always  deprived  of  her  priest.  In  view  of  such  times 
she  had  secretly  obtained  from  Rome  the  extra- 
ordinary privilege  of  partaking  of  the  consecrated 
elements  at  her  own  hand. 

In  1577  a  shadowy  little  romance  broke  the 
monotony  of  life  in  Mary's  household.  Five  beautiful 
Maries  had  been  young  together,  had  danced  and 
sung  and  laughed,  and  turned  the  heads  and  won  the 
hearts  of  their  lovers.  In  1577  they  were  barely  what 
we  now  consider  middle-aged,  but  the  best  of  life  was 
over  for  all.  Mary  Fleming,  a  widow  and  in  poverty, 
had  joined,  with  her  children,  the  sad  restless  company 
of  Catholic  exiles  at  Louvain.  Mary  Livingston's 
husband,    John    Semple,    had    been    persecuted    by 


LIFE  AT  SHEFFIELD  243 

Morton  on  account  of  his  faithful  stewardship  of 
Mary's  jewels.  Of  Mary  Beaton  we  only  know  that 
she  was  alive  in  1578  and  that  she  died  before  her 
husband  Ogilvy  of  Boyne.  And  now  in  sober,  middle- 
aged  guise,  love  came  to  Mary  Seton,  the  last  of  the 
five. 

The  Beaton's  were  among  the  most  loyal  of 
Mary's  friends.  A  brother  of  the  Archbishop  passed 
constantly  between  Paris  and  Sheffield  entrusted  with 
all  her  confidential  affairs.  Early  in  1577,  this  faithful 
Andrew  Beaton  proposed  for  the  hand  of  Mary  Seton. 
The  lady  was  reluctant.  Mary  had  first  to  talk  her 
out  of  some  religious  scruples  concerning  a  vow  she 
had  made,  and  then  to  laugh  her  out  of  a  character- 
istically Scottish  difficulty.  Andrew  Beaton  was  only 
a  younger  son,  and  at  the  best  it  was  doubtful  if  a 
Beaton  were  a  quite  equal  match  for  a  daughter  of 
the  House  of  Seton.  It  was  not  put  to  the  proof. 
On  his  next  journey  back  from  Paris,  Andrew  fell  ill 
on  the  road  and  died  in  an  inn.  A  couple  of  years 
before  Mary's  death,  Mary  Seton  left  her  mistress 
and  may  have  adopted  the  religious  life. 

Amusements  were  scanty  at  Sheffield  and 
pathetically  mild  for  a  woman  like  Mary.  As  an 
occasional  indulgence  Shrewsbury  took  her  hawking 
in  his  beautiful  park,  but  this  might  at  any  moment 
bring  an  angry  rebuke  on  him.  Life  had  to  be 
arranged  for  indoors.  "  Besides  reading  and  working 
I  take  pleasure  only  in  all  the  little  animals  I  can  get." 
She  had  Barbary  fowls  in  wooden  cages,  and  small 
birds  and  " pretty  little  dogs"  sent  from  France. 

It  is  more  touching  to  hear  that  the  practically 
childless,  rapidly  aging  woman  almost  adopted  a 
small  grandchild  of  Lady  Shrewsbury.     Little  Bessie 


244  MARY  STUART 

Pierrepoint  seems  to  have  shared  the  Queen's  room 
from  the  time  she  was  four  years'  old.  It  was  an 
interest  to  the  Queen  to  train  up  the  little  creature  in 
courtly  breeding  and  accomplishment,  "  bringing  her 
up  as  carefully  and  as  virtuously  as  if  she  had  been 
my  own  daughter."  She  took  a  simple,  motherly 
pleasure  in  superintending  her  frocks.  Sentences  like 
the  following  in  one  of  her  letters  to  "  ma  mie,"  "  my 
well-beloved  bed-fellow,  Bess  Pierrepoint,"  have  an 
amusingly  familiar  ring.  "  I  shall  cause  your  black 
dress  to  be  made  and  sent  to  you  as  soon  as  I  have 
the  trimming  for  which  I  have  written  to  London." 

The  adoption  of  Lady  Shrewsbury's  grandchild, 
and  the  further  fact  that  Mary  stood  sponsor  to  a 
Talbot  grandchild  born  in  the  Castle,  are  proofs  that 
however  rigidly  Lord  Shrewsbury  might  stick  to  his 
role  of  jailor,  there  must  have  been  considerable 
intimacy  between  Mary  and  Bess  of  Hardwick.  The 
furious  quarrel  between  the  ladies  some  eight  or  nine 
years  later  is  in  itself  an  argument  of  this. 

Lady  Shrewsbury  had  permission  to  spend  long 
mornings  with  the  Queen,  both  ladies  busy  over  their 
embroidery  frames.  Court  gossip  and  spicy  stories 
of  Queen  Elisabeth  enlivened  their  conversation. 
Through  Lady  Shrewsbury  reassuring  messages 
reached  Mary  even  from  men  in  high  favour  at 
court.  After  all,  nothing  could  alter  the  facts  that 
she  was  next  heir  to  the  crown,  and  that  not  the 
most  fulsome  of  courtiers  could  attribute  immor- 
tality to  Gloriana.  Even  her  minion,  Christopher 
Hatton,  sent  Mary  a  message,  that  as  soon  as  Elisabeth 
was  dead  he  would  ride  down  to  Sheffield,  and  escort 
her  to  London. 

It  seems  to  have  been  with  Mary's  approval  that 


LIFE  AT  SHEFFIELD  245 

the  ambitious  countess  contrived  and  carried  out — in 
defiance  of  Elisabeth's  known  dislike  to  matrimony — 
a  marriage  between  one  of  her  daughters  and  Charles 
Stuart,  Darnley's  brother.  After  the  usual  storm  of 
Elisabeth's  indignation  had  rolled  over  their  heads, 
the  young  couple  would  have  settled  down  happily, 
for  it  was  a  love  match  and  the  lady  of  a  sweet  dis- 
position, but  death  removed  first  the  young  husband, 
and  a  year  or  two  later,  the  wife.  The  little  orphaned 
daughter,  Arabella,  was  to  inherit  all  the  ill-hap  that 
attended  her  race. 

The  marriage  of  Charles  Stuart  and  Elisabeth 
Cavendish  had  probably  been  the  occasion  of  a  sort 
of  reconciliation  between  Mary  and  Lady  Lennox. 
Before  she  died  the  old  countess  certainly  affected 
to  believe  in  her  daughter-in-law's  innocence  of  her 
husband's  murder. 

If  proofs  of  her  innocence  of  that  almost  forgotten 
crime  could  have  helped  Mary,  a  document  was  sent 
from  Denmark,  May  1576,  purporting  to  be  a  con- 
fession of  Bothwell,  in  which  he  cleared  the  Queen  of 
all  participation  in  the  crime  and  laid  the  blame  heavily 
on  Murray  and  the  Protestant  lords.  Bothwell's  mind 
had  been  unhinged  before  he  died  at  the  end  of  seven 
long  years  of  captivity.  Moreover  the  document  is 
of  doubtful  authenticity  and  seems  to  have  had  little 
or  no  effect  on  public  opinion  at  the  time. 

The  chief  interest  of  the  episode  is  the  effect  it 
had  on  the  poor,  shrinking  soul  of  little  ten-year-old 
King  James.  Sticklers  as  were  his  tutors  for  the 
Levitical  Law,  one  gentle  precept  they  had  scrupu- 
lously disregarded.  They  had  been  careful  to  seethe 
the  kid  in  the  mother's  milk.  From  the  pulpit,  in  the 
very  prayers  of  the  Church  the  mother's  shame  had 


246  MARY  STUART 

been  rubbed  into  the  sensitive  soul  of  the  child. 
Tulliebardine  had  got  hold  of  this  confession  of 
Bothwell's  and  mentioned  it  inadvertently  in  the  boy's 
presence  ;  eagerly  the  child  asked  to  see  the  document. 
So  dull  of  heart  was  Tulliebardine  that  he  could  not 
account  for  the  high  spirits  the  boy  was  in  all  the  rest 
of  the  day,  and  wrung  from  him  the  explanation  that 
the  knowledge  of  his  mother's  innocence  had  lifted 
a  weight  from  his  heart. 

Four  or  five  years  later  when  James  was  a  reigning 
king  and  treated  on  all  hands  as  a  grown  man,  the 
old  suffering  from  these  ugly  tales  was  still  acute. 
The  rough  kind-heartedness  of  a  simple  man,  Lord 
Hunsdon's  courier,  Cuddy  Armour,  had  opened  his 
heart  and  James  complained  with  tears  of  the  vulgar 
gibe  that  called  him  "  the  son  of  Signor  Davie." 

There  had  been  room  for  many  changes  in  Mary's 
world  during  the  seven  dull  years  at  Sheffield.  Even 
in  her  own  household  there  were  important  changes. 
In  1574  Raulet,  Mary's  secretary,  lay  dying,  unable 
to  manage  her  correspondence,  but  so  resentful  if  any 
one  else  wrote  for  her  that,  with  her  usual  considerate- 
ness,  she  did  most  of  her  writing  with  her  own 
hand.  In  his  place,  a  certain  young  Frenchman, 
Nau  by  name,  was  sent  to  her  in  the  following  year. 
A  partisan  of  the  Guises  and  with  his  own  fortune  to 
make,  he  plunged  with  zeal  into  all  Mary's  plots  and 
schemes.  From  chance  remarks  in  her  letters,  it  is 
clear  that  Mary  recognised  the  selfish  and  quarrelsome 
nature  of  the  man,  but  she  had  confidence  in  his 
ability  and  his  final  faithlessness  was  a  painful  shock 
to  her.  It  was  to  this  Nau  that  Mary  related  minutely 
the  circumstances  of  her  life  between  the  Riccio 
murder  and  the  flight   from  Loch   Leven.      Untrusf.- 


LIFE  AT  SHEFFIELD  247 

worthy  as  a  record  of  facts,  Nau's  history  is  interesting 
as  a  revelation  of  Mary's  mind.  The  passion  for 
Bothwell  had  perished  as  though  it  had  never  been, 
but  the  resentment  against  Darnley  was  as  fresh  as 
though  his  sins  against  her  were  of  yesterday. 

In  the  larger  world  there  were  more  momentous 
changes.  In  1574  the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine  died. 
He  had  acted  a  selfish  part  by  his  niece.  In  the 
matter  of  her  dowry  he  had  neglected  and  mismanaged 
her  business  even  if  he  were  guiltless  of  malversation. 
By  various  expressions  in  her  letters,  it  is  plain  that 
Mary  was  under  no  delusions  as  to  his  character,  yet, 
when  he  died,  she  remembered  nothing  but  the  fact 
that  he  had  fathered  her  youth.  "  Alas  !  "  she  wrote, 
"  I  am  a  prisoner  and  God  has  taken  from  me  the  one 
of  all  his  creatures  whom  I  most  loved.  ...  I  had 
no  need  to  be  told  of  this  event,  as  I  had  a  frightful 
dream  from  which  I  awoke  fully  convinced  of  that 
which  was  subsequently  confirmed."  Several  years 
later,  the  old  Duchess  Antoinette  died  full  of  years, 
of  fulfilled  ambitions  and  of  heart-breaking  disappoint- 
ments. The  headship  of  the  family  now  devolved 
on  Mary's  cousin  the  young  Duke  of  Guise,  Duke 
Francis'  son,  who,  from  a  wound  in  his  face,  was 
proud  to  bear  the  title  of  the  younger  "  Balafre." 

Like  the  earlier  generation  of  Guises,  this  young 
man  was  haunted  by  dreams  of  founding  a  royal 
dynasty  and  with  one  diseased  and  childless  Valois 
succeeding  the  other  on  the  throne — while  the  next 
heir  was  a  pronounced  Huguenot — there  was  room 
in  France  for  ambitious  dreaming.  To  this  end 
Guise  cultivated  assiduously  the  hereditary  popularity 
of  his  family  with  the  Parisian  mob  ;  to  this  end  he 
plunged  recklessly  into  debt ;  to  this  end  he — the  son 


248  MARY  STUART 

of  the  conqueror  of  Metz  and  Calais — intrigued  with 
the  enemy  of  his  country,  becoming  a  pensioner  of 
Philip,  and  bound  to  the  interests  of  Spain  ;  to  this 
end  he  remembered  that  he  had  a  cousin,  next  heir 
to  the  throne  of  England,  the  centre  of  Catholic 
hopes  and  devotion.  He  was  to  be  a  chief  actor 
in  the  great  Catholic  and  Spanish  plots  of  the  closing 
years  of  Mary's  life. 

The  first  of  these  plots  hardly  touched  Mary 
personally.  She  knew  of  it  but  had  nothing  to  do 
with  its  planning,  indeed  it  never  took  definite  nor 
practical  shape. 

There  was  perhaps  only  one  man  in  Europe  who 
in  position,  person,  heroic  quality  and  romantic  charm 
was  Mary's  equal,  Philip's  bastard  brother,  Don  John 
of  Austria.  A  writer  of  romance  must  needs  have 
brought  the  two  together  though  a  continent  and  a 
wilderness  of  monsters  had  divided  them. 

Their  very  appearance  declared  them  made  for 
each  other.  Don  John's  spare,  upright  figure,  nobly 
poised  head  and  dark  Spanish  face  would  have  matched 
the  beauty  of  Mary  in  her  youth.  When  de  Tassis — 
the  Spanish  ambassador  at  Paris — wrote  that  Don 
John's  "bright  and  vivacious  eyes  were  winning  all 
hearts,"  and  when  another  writer  describes  his  "  Circe- 
like charm  over  the  minds  of  men,"  one  cannot  but  be 
reminded  of  early  days  at  Holy  rood  and  the  "  enchant- 
ment whereby  men  are  bewitched." 

Don  John  was  the  son  of  a  king,  but  at  the 
same  time  an  adventurer  eager  to  carve  out  with  his 
sword  a  kingdom  of  his  own ;  he  was  a  child  of  the 
Church  as  loyal  and  devout  as  Mary  herself.  If  the 
two  had  actually  been  united  in  a  place  of  power  they 
might    have    plunged    Europe    back    for   generations 


lOAN'MEs'   AVSTBJACVS    CAR..V.F.  PHI JLXAV  NO AFVD  BELG.GVB.E.T  CAPIT  GENFJ 


DON    JOHN    OF    AUSTRIA 


LIFE  AT  SHEFFIELD  249 

into  tyranny  and  obscurantism,  so  irresistible  would 
have  been  their  force,  so  united  their  aims ! 

In  1577  Don  John  was  appointed  Governor  of  the 
Netherlands.  At  Rome  he  had  found  the  Pope  full 
of  a  scheme  by  which  Don  John  should  suddenly 
carry  his  Spanish  soldiers  across  the  sea,  make  a 
descent  on  England,  deliver  Mary  and  re-establish 
the  Catholic  faith.  English  exiles  at  the  Roman 
court,  weary  of  inaction  and  sick  for  home,  pledged 
themselves  that  the  Catholics  in  England  would 
eagerly  co-operate  with  him.  On  his  way  to  the 
Netherlands,  Don  John  went  disguised  to  Paris  and 
there,  in  a  secret  interview,  discussed  the  scheme 
with  the  Duke  of  Guise,  the  head  of  "our  house" 
as  Mary  fondly  called  her  mother's  family.  Both 
young  men  were  ardent  for  the  enterprise. 

But  the  reconquering  or  reconciliation  of  the 
Netherlands  was  a  task  beyond  even  the  genius 
and  spirit  of  the  hero  of  Lepanto.  It  was  no  part 
of  Philip's  scheme  that  his  brother  should  be  too 
successful.  Straitened  for  money,  ill-supplied  with 
soldiers,  worn  out  by  a  wasting  fever  caught  in  the 
camp — if  indeed  more  sinister  agents  were  not  at 
work — Don  John  died  at  the  end  of  two  years  leaving 
his  task  almost  unattempted.  "Tout  avec  le  temps," 
he  had  said,  finger  on  lip  and  smiling  mysteriously 
when  some  one  had  told  him  of  the  straitness  and 
hopelessness  of  Mary's  imprisonment.  But  alas ! 
Time  was  his  conqueror  and  the  lady  looked  in  vain 
for  her  deliverer. 


CHAPTER  XX 

CATHOLIC    PLOTS 
1580— 1583 

MARY  was  not  old  as  we  count  age.  In  1580 
she  was  not  more  than  thirty-eight,  but  time 
and  trouble  had  dealt  hardly  with  her.  Her  hair  was 
gray,  her  health  so  broken  that  she  spent  half  her 
time  in  bed,  rheumatism  had  so  crippled  her  limbs 
that  she  had  at  times  to  be  carried  about  the  grounds 
in  a  Sedan  chair. 

Much  of  her  sufferings  were  what  we  should  now 
recognise  as  nervous.  She  was  specially  apt  to  have 
crises  at  the  times  when  Elisabeth  was  renewing  the 
weary  old  farce  of  negotiating  terms  for  setting  her 
cousin  at  liberty.  When  accredited  ministers  were  at 
Sheffield,  lights  would  be  put  out  in  the  Queen's 
rooms,  voices  lowered,  and  agitated  attendants  would 
give  anxious  reports  of  the  patient.  The  Shrews- 
bury's were  sceptical  about  these  attacks,  but  of  Mary's 
frequent  suffering  and  discomfort  there  can  be  no 
doubt. 

In  moments  of  lassitude  and  deep  despondency 
she  craved  for  mere  liberty  that  she  might  live  at 
peace  and  concern  herself  with  her  salvation.  The 
wonder  is  rather  that  such  moods  were  rare  and  only 
half  genuine. 

Not  only  was  she  broken  in  health,  but  so  shame- 
less   had    been    the    peculation   and    malversation    in 

250 


CATHOLIC  PLOTS  251 

the  business  of  her  dowry,  that  in  1583  her  income 
had  dwindled  from  ;£  12,000  a  year  to  .£1200 — and 
money  is  the  mainspring  of  conspiracy.  She  was 
cut  off  from  all  counsel,  news  reached  her  only  inter- 
mittently and  she  had  no  security  that  her  letters  would 
reach  her  correspondents.  Yet  for  six  more  years  this 
extraordinary  woman  kept  the  principal  governments 
in  Europe  poised  between  peace  and  war,  and  at  last 
drove  the  strong  and  settled  government  of  England 
into  the  crime  of  executing  her  simply  from  fear  of 
what  she  could  effect. 

That  room  at  Sheffield  where  the  lights,  burning 
late  into  the  night,  showed  Mary  and  her  secretaries 
busy  with  her  correspondence,  was  the  centre  of  a 
network  whose  secret  and  complicated  threads 
reached  to  Paris,  to  Madrid,  to  Rome,  to  the  Spanish 
Embassy  in  London,  to  the  English  seminary  at 
Rheims,  to  country  manor  houses  in  England  and  to 
weather-beaten  towers  across  the  Border. 

The  Catholic  reaction  was  in  full  flood.  The 
positive,  aggressive,  heroic  spirit  had  passed  from  the 
reforming  over  to  the  conservative  Church.  The 
society  of  Jesus,  disciplined  to  face  any  difficulty, 
ardent  to  brave  any  danger,  was  setting  itself  to 
reconquer  the  world  for  the  Church.  In  1580  a 
chivalrous  band  of  young  English  priests  trained 
abroad  set  themselves  to  the  glorious  task  of  bring- 
ing back  their  country  to  the  obedience  of  Rome. 
In  various  disguises  they  rode  about  the  country ; 
Pious  ladies  in  country  houses  received  them  to  their 
own  peril.  These  priests  celebrated  the  mass  and 
heard  confessions  in  quiet  corners.  Many  well-born 
youths,  who,  like  Francis  Throckmorton  and  Antony 
Babington,  were  halting  between  the  claims  of  their 


252  MARY  STUART 

faith  and  the  allurements  of  a  worldly  career,  were 
won  by  the  fervour  and  heroism  of  these  young 
priests. 

If  to  this  enthusiastic  Catholic  party  the  English 
government  was  schismatic  and  Elisabeth  an  illegiti- 
mate and  excommunicated  usurper,  Mary  appeared 
the  rightful  heir  and  a  martyr  for  the  Catholic  faith. 
She  was  to  them  an  ideal  figure,  a  type  of  the  suffer- 
ing Church.  A  year  or  two  later  one  of  them  wrote 
of  her  as  "the  only  saint  I  know  living  on  earth." 
To  the  exalted  imagination  of  these  missionaries  the 
whole  country  seemed  ripe  for  rebellion.  The  national 
life  of  the  English  people  was  a  fact  too  large  and 
obvious  for  them  to  perceive,  the  life  of  the  contented 
masses  who  bought  and  sold  and  laboured  and  blessed 
the  Queen  who  loved  her  country  and  kept  it  in  peace 
and  prosperity. 

The  English  government  saw  the  danger  of  all 
this  missionary  zeal  and  met  it  with  a  persecution 
as  searching  —  though  not  as  sanguinary  —  as  that 
carried  on  in  Catholic  countries.  But  to  ardent 
spirits,  such  as  Edmund  Campian,  martyrdom  was  a 
goal  in  itself;  to  the  astute  heads  of  the  order  of 
Jesus,  martyrdoms  were  the  most  effective  means  of 
spreading  the  faith.  To  stay  the  sympathetic  excite- 
ment which  accompanied  these  executions,  the  govern- 
ment was  careful  to  profess  that  they  punished  political 
treason  not  religious  persuasions. 

All  Catholic  interests,  from  the  mere  charitable 
care  of  poor  prisoners  in  the  Tower,  to  the  subversion 
of  the  throne,  found  a  centre  at  the  Spanish  Embassy. 
Of  all  the  notable  men  sent  as  ambassadors  by  Spain 
to  England  Bernardino  Mendoza  is  the  most  striking 
figure.       He   was  a  typical    Spaniard  ;    so    devout  a 


CATHOLIC  PLOTS  253 

Catholic  that  it  was  said  of  him  that  "  he  was  con- 
fessed, shriven  and  holy-watered  "  before  every 
audience  with  Elisabeth  and  her  Council ;  so  conscious 
of  his  blue  blood  and  high  breeding  that  he  distinctly 
despised  the  English  court  and  thought  Elisabeth 
vulgar.  His  grip  of  affairs,  small  and  great,  his 
sources  of  information,  his  power  of  vivid  and  forcible 
writing  are  alike  amazing.  He  had  spies  in  Elisabeth's 
very  bedchamber.  He  gives  every  detail  of  her 
preposterous  and  hypocritical  love  affair  with  the  poor 
little  Duke  of  Alencon,  the  third  of  Mary's  brothers- 
in-law,  who  aspired  to  the  hand  of  Elisabeth.  It  is 
to  Mendoza  we  owe  the  story  of  Elisabeth  flinging 
her  shoe  at  Walsingham's  head  and  calling  him 
"Knave"  and  "Puritan."  He  adds  the  comment 
"she  often  behaves  in  this  rude  manner." 

He  must  also  have  had  a  correspondent  at  the 
Scottish  court,  so  closely  did  he  follow  the  shifting 
movements  there.  For  in  the  complicated  game  of 
European  politics  Scotland  was  again  taking  a  part. 
The  subserviency  to  England  which  had  been  Morton's 
steady  policy  had  come  to  an  end.  In  1580  James,  a 
boy  of  fourteen,  was  a  reigning  sovereign,  and  the 
various  powers  were  awaking  to  the  fact  of  his 
importance. 

Brought  up  between  Morton  and  George  Buchanan 
and  shrinking  in  fear  and  hatred  from  both,  James 
early  developed  a  power  of  duplicity  that  astonished 
that  veteran  deceiver,  Elisabeth.  In  reaction  from 
the  austerity  of  his  upbringing  he  had  a  passion  for 
pleasure  and  a  habit  of  levity  which  delivered  him 
into  the  hands  of  any  one  who  could  keep  him 
amused.  His  intellect,  naturally  subtle,  had  been 
early  stimulated  and  was  a  source  of  infinite  conceit  to 


254  MARY  STUART 

him.  His  vanity  as  a  theologian  was  to  turn  out,  at 
a  crisis,  a  stronger  bulwark  of  the  Protestant  faith 
than  the  warmest  personal  piety  would  have  been. 

In  the  five  last  eventful  years  of  her  life,  her  son's 
character  was  one  of  the  stubborn  facts  that  Mary 
had  to  reckon  with.  Mary  had  more  than  once 
offered  to  Philip  to  have  her  son  placed  in  his 
hands  to  be  brought  up  a  Catholic,  without  however 
suggesting  how  so  chimerical  a  plan  could  be  carried 
out.  More  practical  was  the  plan  of  her  kinsman 
the  Duke  of  Guise.  If  James  were  not  to  become 
his  mother's  most  formidable  rival  he  must  be  won 
over  to  adopt  her  cause  and,  if  possible,  her  religion. 
To  this  end  he  dispatched  to  Scotland,  James' 
cousin  on  the  father's  side,  the  seigneur  d'Aubigny 
(Sept.  1 581).  Mary  disliked  the  project,  she  had 
rooted  mistrust  of  the  false,  selfish  Lennox  blood. 
She  recalled  the  incident  of  her  own  childhood  when 
old  Lennox  had  betrayed  the  cause  of  France  for 
Henry  VIII.'s  gold. 

D'Aubigny,  though  lacking  both  character  and 
courage,  had  every  art  of  pleasing.  When  he  saw 
the  difficulty  of  altering  James'  religious  views,  he 
cunningly  professed  to  be  converted  to  Protestantism 
by  the  arguments  of  the  youthful  Solomon. 

The  next  step  necessary  was  the  overthrow  of 
Morton.  For  this  the  Frenchman's  courage  and 
influence  were  insufficient.  But  another  favourite  of 
the  king's,  James  Stewart  [a  son  of  Lord  Ochiltree 
and — oddly  enough — a  brother-in-law  of  John  Knox], 
possessed  the  qualities  for  that  characteristic  Scotch 
crime,  murder  with  a  show  of  legality.  On  the  last 
day  of  the  year  1580,  the  useful  old  accusation  of  being 
art  and  part  in  the  murder  of  Darnley  was,  for  the  last 


rquAMHftTK' 'V 


THE    KARL  OF    MORTON 


CATHOLIC  PLOTS  255 

again,  brought  into  play.  That  hungry  grave  of 
Darnley  had  called  for  many  atoning  victims ;  two 
more  and  the  tale  would  be  complete. 

When  she  learned  the  fate  impending  over  Morton, 
Elisabeth  raged  and  threatened  but  only  two  argu- 
ments would  have  carried  weight,  heavy  bribes  or  an 
army  marching  across  the  Border,  and  these  costly 
measures  Elisabeth  would  only  employ  at  the  last 
extremity.  In  Scotland,  no  "banded"  noblemen,  no 
faithful  kinsmen  rose  to  defeat  the  ends  of  justice  on 
Morton's  behalf.  His  greed,  pride  and  cruelty  had 
left  him  isolated  in  a  world  rejoicing  at  his  fall. 

It  was  a  strange  age,  when  lives  of  reckless  and 
ignoble  passions  ended  in  deaths  of  deliberate  nobility. 
Morton  laid  down  his  pride  of  place  and  power,  his 
hoards  of  ill-gotten  wealth  as  if  he  were  weary  of 
them.  He  claimed  the  grace  of  God  as  his  pre- 
destined, inalienable  heritage,  and  died  not  without 
sombre  grandeur.  He  was  one  of  the  few  enemies 
left  who  had  brought  her  to  shame  on  Carberry  Hill, 
and  Mary  rejoiced  unrestrainedly  in  his  fall  and  death. 

The  French  government,  seeing  the  way  open  for 
regaining  their  old  influence  in  Scotland,  proposed  to 
send  an  ambassador  to  James,  without  however  with- 
drawing the  countenance  they  still  affected  to  show 
his  mother.  To  make  her  son  an  ally  and  a  strength 
to  her  claims  became  a  first  object  to  Mary  :  to  keep 
mother  and  son  separate  and  to  play  one  against 
the  other  was  a  new  motive  for  Elisabeth.  She 
renewed  the  old  meaningless  negotiations  with  her 
cousin;  while  Mary  proposed  to  James  an  "Act  of 
Association  "  by  which  her  son  was  to  admit  her  right- 
ful possession  of  the  crown  and  she,  in  turn,  promised 
to  re-transmit  it  to  him. 


256  MARY  STUART 

If  he  remained  a  Protestant  and  an  ally  of  Elisa- 
beth's this  Association  offered  no  advantages  to 
James,  if  he  identified  himself  with  his  mother  it 
would  secure  him  the  enthusiastic  support  of  that 
extended  and  complicated  Catholic  conspiracy  which 
was  daily  taking  more  definite  body  and  form.  It 
was  primarily  a  religious,  even  an  ecclesiastical  plot. 
Philip  and  the  Pope  were,  it  was  confidently  hoped,  at 
the  back  of  it  with  troops  and  money. 

In  Paris  Mary  had  only  too  many  agents.  Guise, 
deeply  engaged  to  Spain,  was  yet  most  reluctant  to 
arouse  the  suspicion  of  his  own  government.  Arch- 
bishop Beaton,  Mary's  faithful  old  servant,  was  too 
conservative  to  trust  to  any  other  alliance  than  the 
French,  the  other  Scotsmen  took  the  same  view. 
Beaton  was  jealous  of  the  younger  and  newer  men,  and 
so  anxious  to  keep  matters  in  his  own  hands  that 
Mary  complained  half  humorously,  half  bitterly,  that 
he  wished  to  keep  even  her  out  of  her  own  affairs 
altogether.  Of  Mary's  other  friends  Morgan  was 
whole-heartedly  Spanish,  so  were  Dr  Allen,  head  of 
the  Seminary  at  Rheims,  and  the  other  priestly 
plotters. 

Early  in  1582  Jesuits  were  sent  to  Scotland  to 
report  on  the  feeling  in  the  country.  The  sight  of 
tumbled-down  churches  quickened  their  pious  zeal ; 
the  social  standing  to  which  Morton's  policy  had 
reduced  the  ministers  moved  their  contempt.  They 
stayed  with  Catholic  noblemen  like  Eglintoun  and 
Seton,  saw  in  the  country  only  what  they  wished  to 
see  and  totally  failed  to  gauge  the  compact  power  of 
Church  and  people.  On  one  point  only  they  did  not 
delude  themselves.  Father  Crichton  admitted  that 
he  had  small  hopes  of  the  King's  conversion.     Vanity 


CATHOLIC  PLOTS  257 

and  his  own  habitual  arguments  bound  James  to  the 
faith  of  his  upbringing,  but  from  political  reasons  he 
was  ready  to  welcome  the  support  of  Spain.  The 
Catholic  nobles  declared  that  if  James'  convictions 
stood  in  the  way,  they  would  not  hesitate  to  depose 
him  or  carry  him  off  abroad. 

D'Aubigny  was  as  ardent  and  as  unpractical  as  the 
priests  themselves.  He  wrote  to  Mary  that  he 
desired  nothing  more  than  to  fight  in  her  cause.  But 
his  conditions  were  exacting.  He  sent  them  clearly 
formulated  to  the  conspirators  in  Paris.  He  was  to 
have  20,000  men  by  the  autumn  with  pay  for  eighteen 
months  and  was  himself  to  be  in  supreme  command. 
Father  Crichton,  with  no  better  authority  than  his 
own  hopeful  spirit,  lightly  promised  that  his  demands 
should  be  acceded  to.  The  ardour,  confidence  and 
officiousness  of  these  holy  men  would  have  wrecked  a 
less  complicated  plot.  In  the  spring  of  1582  they 
were  back  in  France,  and  sent  Mendoza  an  eager 
message  inviting  him  to  meet  them  at  Rouen.  "  The 
good  men  say  this  as  if  I  could  do  such  a  thing,"  he 
writes  half  amused  and  wholly  provoked  at  their 
simplicity.  They  called  everybody  into  Council  at 
once,  Morgan,  Guise,  Beaton  and  Dr  Allen,  confided 
everything  as  completely  to  de  Tassis,  the  Spanish 
ambassador  in  Paris,  as  they  did  to  Mendoza,  to  the 
latter's  extreme  irritation.  Then  one  good  Father 
bustled  off  to  Rome  to  consult  the  Pope  and  the  other 
to  Madrid  to  stir  up  Philip. 

Mary  and  Mendoza  clearly  recognised  each  other 
as  the  only  two  capable  persons  concerned  in  the  plot. 
Their  attitude  of  mind  towards  their  priestly  allies 
was  identical.  "  These  good  people  may  blunder 
seriously  unless  they  have  wise  counsel  and  advice," 

R 


258  MARY  STUART 

Mary  wrote  anxiously.  In  similar  words  Mendoza 
complains,  "  The  priests  though  ardently  zealous, 
cannot  be  trusted  with  matters  of  state  unless  taught 
word  by  word  what  to  say." 

In  April  1582,  Mary  begs  Mendoza  to  take  the 
management  of  the  whole  affair  ;  in  writing  to  Philip 
Mendoza  describes  Mary  as  virtually  the  mainspring 
of  the  plot. 

Cardinal  Granvella  was  living  in  retirement  in 
Spain  ;  there  much  of  the  king's  correspondence 
passed  through  his  hands.  He  was  struck  by  the 
ability  of  Mary's  suggestions.  "  She  must  have  some 
very  intelligent  person  near  her  who  writes  her  letters. 
...  It  is  impossible  to  lay  down  with  greater 
clearness  the  lines  upon  which  the  affair  should  be 
conducted,  the  support  that  will  be  necessary  and  the 
kind  of  force  required." 

Skilful  plans,  pious  zeal,  golden  opportunity,  all 
knocked  at  Philip's  door  in  vain.  He  would  not  stir 
till  all  his  plans  were  completed,  till  he  and  his  ally 
"el  Tiempo"  were  at  one.  It  was  his  purpose,  from 
which  he  never  faltered,  to  crush  Elisabeth,  conquer 
England,  and  restore  it  to  the  Faith.  It  was  never 
part  of  his  plan  that  Mary  Stuart  and  her  son  should 
benefit  by  his  labours.  Two  years  later,  in  1584, 
when  he  let  another  opportunity  slip  of  accomplish- 
ing the  pious  enterprise,  Sir  Francis  Englefield,  a 
Catholic  exile  who  looked  after  Mary's  interests  at 
Madrid,  wrote  to  him,  "  If  she  perish,  as  is  to  be 
feared,  it  cannot  fail  to  bring  some  scandal  and 
reproach  upon  your  Majesty  because,  as  your  Majesty 
is,  after  her,  the  nearest  Catholic  heir*  of  the  blood 

*  Philip's  claim  was  remote,  based  on  his  descent  from  a  daughter  of 
John  of  Gaunt. 


PHILIP    II,    KING  OF  SPAIN 


:: 


CATHOLIC  PLOTS  259 

royal  of  England,  some  false  suspicion  might  naturally 
be  roused  at  your  having  abandoned  the  good  Queen." 
This  "  false  suspicion  "  commends  itself  very  naturally 
to  the  student  of  history. 

While  Philip  held  back  from  the  Catholic  plot, 
a  Protestant  plot  in  Scotland,  favoured  and  financed 
by  the  English  government  and  sanctioned  by  the 
Kirk,  had  suddenly  kidnapped  James  while  the  guest 
of  Lord  Ruthven,  clapped  Arran  into  prison — James' 
favourite,  Captain  James  Stuart,  had  been  raised  to 
the  Earldom  of  Arran — and  driven  the  panic-stricken 
dAubigny  into  the  stronghold  of  Dumbarton. 

Brave  and  practical  always,  Mary,  on  hearing  of 
this  sudden  check  to  her  plans,  wrote  to  Guise  urging 
that  French  troops  might  at  once  be  poured  into 
Dumbarton.  Her  letter  fell  neatly  into  the  hands  of 
Francis  Walsingham,  Secretary  of  State.  This  Francis 
Walsingham  was  the  most  tenacious  and  dangerous 
of  all  Mary's  enemies.  As  good  a  Protestant  as 
Burghley,  he  dreaded  above  all  things  a  Catholic 
successor  on  the  throne.  Elisabeth  might  call  him 
names,  ruin  him  in  unrepaid  expenses,  fling  her 
slipper  at  his  head  and  thwart  him  at  every  turn,  he 
toiled  unremittingly  in  her  service ;  nay,  in  that 
service,  lent  himself  to  mean  and  treacherous  devices. 
He  had  spies  everywhere,  even  in  Catholic  seminaries  ; 
in  the  Tower  renegade  priests  purchased  their  lives 
at  his  hands  by  worming  themselves  into  the  con- 
fidence of  genuine  sufferers.  At  this  very  time, 
the  clerk  at  the  French  Embassy,  entrusted  to  copy 
out  Mary's  ciphered  letters,  was  in  his  pay  and  sent 
him  deciphered  copies. 

As  usual,  it  was  by  the  tightening  of  her  im- 
prisonment   that     Mary    knew    that    something    was 


260  MARY  STUART 

discovered.  She  was  always  greatest  when  she  was 
indignant.  On  the  8th  November  1582  she  wrote 
to  Elisabeth.  The  letter  is  autograph,  and  beautifully 
written  in  her  fair,  Renaissance  handwritine.  The 
support  afforded  by  the  Queen  of  England  to  the 
rebels  who  had  kidnapped  her  son  was  but  another 
move,  she  declared,  in  the  treacherous  and  unneigh- 
bourly game  Elisabeth  had  played  with  her  from  the 
beginning.  She  arraigned  her  cousin  before  the  judg- 
ment seat  of  God  and  bade  her  consider  the  succession 
of  wrongs  she  had  inflicted  on  her  nearest  kinswoman. 
No  point  in  the  indictment  was  false  or  even  strained. 
Elisabeth  had  again  and  again  supported  Mary's 
rebellious  subjects  against  her,  she  had  allured  her 
into  England  by  the  promise  of  assistance,  she  had 
kept  her  in  prison  against  all  law  and  justice.  The 
right  to  be  heard  in  her  own  defence,  vouchsafed  to 
the  meanest  criminal,  was  denied  to  the  next  heir  to 
the  throne.  That  title,  Mary  added  bitterly,  was  the 
real  cause  of  the  injustice.  She  was  treated  not  as 
a  state  prisoner  but  as  a  slave  whose  life  might  be 
sacrificed  at  any  moment  to  the  caprice  of  her  enemies. 
This  was  a  fact  not  to  be  gainsaid.  The  letter  would 
have  been  stronger  if  Mary  had  been  content  to  put 
Elisabeth  in  the  wrong  and  leave  it  alone.  But  she 
was  ill,  sick  with  disappointment,  and  galled  by  the 
rigours  of  her  captivity.  At  the  end  she  breaks  down 
in  passionate  pleading.  "  I  beg  you,  madame,  for  the 
sake  of  the  sorrowful  passion  of  our  Saviour  and 
Redeemer  to  allow  me  to  retire  from  this  kingdom 
to  some  place  of  peace  where  I  may  comfort  this  poor 
body,  worn  out  by  so  many  troubles  and,  in  freedom 
of  conscience,  prepare  my  soul  for  God  who  daily- 
calls  for  it." 


CATHOLIC  PLOTS  261 

Just  as  the  traveller,  lost  in  some  featureless  waste, 
finds  with  dismay  that  he  has  come  round  again  upon 
his  own  traces,  so  the  student  of  this  period,  wearied 
and  bewildered,  finds  himself  facing  again  and  again 
the  same  set  of  conditions.  In  the  spring  of  1583 
Elisabeth  was  renewing  the  stereotyped  negotiations, 
but  these  had  ceased  to  delude  Mary.  By  the  equally 
delusive  hopes  from  Spain  she  was  constantly  buoyed 
up  to  her  undoing. 

In  the  spring  James,  under  the  influence  of  the 
English  party  among  his  nobles,  had  leaned  to  alliance 
with  Elisabeth  and  had  shown  plainly  that  his  mother's 
continued  captivity  would  be  no  inconvenience  to  him. 
In  June  he  effected  his  escape  from  his  enemies,  by 
his  own  good  wits,  as  he  was  careful  to  inform  all 
other  princes,  and  was  making  servile  advances  to 
Guise  and  the  Pope.  But  as  Philip  wrote,  speaking 
from  the  Catholic  point  of  view,  "his  liberation  was 
not  much  cause  for  rejoicing." 

Guise  was  busy  all  that  summer,  imploring  the 
Pope  for  money  and  Philip  for  men.  This  time 
England  was  to  be  the  point  attacked  :  the  Catholic 
nobles  were  to  be  ready  to  rise  at  the  first  signal. 
It  was  the  old  situation  of  the  Northern  Rising  over 
again.  All  that  autumn  Guise  looked  for  the  sails  of 
that  Spanish  fleet  which  was  not  to  cross  the  sea  till 
Time,  his  old  ally,  had  betrayed  the  King  of  Spain, 
and  the  opportunity  so  often  offered  was  irreparably 
lost. 

A  new  and  sinister  element,  born  of  impatience 
and  disappointment,  had  crept  into  the  plots.  Con- 
vinced that  England  was  Catholic  at  heart,  and  the 
Queen  and  her  ministers  the  only  strength  of 
Protestantism,  the  plotters  raised  the  question  whether 


262  MARY  STUART 

the  murder  of  an  excommunicated  usurper  might  not  be 
a  righteous  act.  Priests  boldly  justified  it  from  the 
pulpit.  A  Catholic  gentleman  Somerville,  crazed 
with  vanity,  was  arrested  in  the  autumn  of  1583 
for  boasting  of  his  intention  to  murder  the  Queen, 
and  drew  others  down  in  his  ruin.  Walsingham's 
attention  was  aroused,  his  spies  set  on  the  trail,  and 
a  young  Catholic  gentleman,  of  position,  a  nephew 
of  Sir  Nicholas  Throckmorton,  arrested.  He  was 
deep  in  the  secret  of  the  Spanish  plot.  Mendoza 
was  anxious  to  see  how  he  would  stand  the  rack, 
having  small  confidence  in  an  Englishman's  powers 
of  endurance.  Three  times  did  gallant  young 
Throckmorton  endure  the  torture,  but  when  threatened 
a  fourth  time  he  gave  way.  The  names  of  the  con- 
spirators, the  list  of  landing  places,  the  Queen's  com- 
plicity in  the  plots,  all  the  important  facts  were  drawn 
out  of  him  with  no  reserves.  Then  he  broke  down 
and  sobbed  that  he  had  betrayed  the  dearest  Queen 
on  earth. 

The  most  important  result  of  these  discoveries  was 
that  Mendoza  was  turned  out  of  the  country.  He 
left  with  passionate  threats.  He  had  failed  to 
please  Elisabeth  as  a  minister  of  peace,  he  would 
satisfy  her,  he  vowed,  as  a  minister  of  war.  He 
became  Spanish  ambassador  at  Paris  and  gratified  his 
desire  to  be  revenged  on  Elisabeth  by  fostering  all 
the  plots  started  against  her. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE    BEGINNING    OF    THE    END 

1584— 1585 

FN  the  spring  of  1584,  anew  and  agitating  personal 
-^  trouble  distracted  Mary's  thoughts  from  her  constant 
preoccupation  with  conspiracy.  We  have  seen  the 
footing  she  was  on  with  Lady  Shrewsbury,  we  may 
suspect  that  it  was  even  more  intimate  than  appears. 
But  with  the  growth  of  the  Lennox  grandchild, 
Arabella  Stuart,  new  ambitions,  hostile  to  Mary, 
were  taking  hold  of  the  grandmother. 

In  December  1582,  Leicester  had  proposed  a 
marriage  between  his  son  and  little  Arabella — the 
Dudleys,  like  the  Guises,  were  always  haunted  by 
the  vision  of  a  crown.  We  have  Mary's  word  that 
Lady  Shrewsbury's  ambition  for  her  grandchild  was 
the  origin  of  the  quarrel.  But  there  were  other 
elements  in  it.  Bess  of  Hardwick  had  quarrelled 
with  her  husband — chiefly  about  money — and  perhaps 
wished  to  hit  both  him  and  the  Scottish  Oueen  with 
one  stone. 

An  ultra  -  Protestant  neighbour,  one  Topcliffe, 
seeking  a  handle  against  any  suspected  of  Catholic 
leanings,  started  the  scandal  that  Lord  Shrewsbury 
had  been  too  intimate  with  his  charge  and  that  she 
had    borne    him    a    child.       Lady    Shrewsbury    had 

laughed    with  the   Queen    at    the    atrocious    slander. 

263 


264  MARY  STUART 

But  after  a  time,  being  desirous  to  pick  a  quarrel  with 
her  guest,  she  took  up  the  report,  and  she  and  her 
two  sons  spread  it  everywhere.  The  misery  and 
wrath  this  caused  Mary  swept  from  her  mind  every- 
thing beyond  the  desire  of  being  revenged  on  her  former 
friend.  For  a  time  indeed  she  restrained  herself  from 
making  revelations.  She  valued  her  own  reputation  for 
loyalty  and  feared  to  alienate  other  serviceable  friends, 
but  we  have  seen  how,  once  or  twice  before  in  her 
life,  she  sacrificed  the  long  results  of  self-restraint  for 
the  infinite  relief  of  pouring  out  the  gall  and  fury 
that  oppressed  her  heart.  She  was  sick,  dis- 
heartened, deserted,  she  may  have  felt  that  she 
might  as  well  lose  everything  by  one  great 
stroke  of  vengeance  against  two  women  who  had 
cruelly  wronged  her.  She  wrote  a  letter  to  Elisabeth 
which,  for  calculated  malice  and  relentless  plainness 
of  speech,  has  probably  no  parallel  in  correspondence. 
She  repeats  all  the  idle  and  highly  spiced  gossip  Lady 
Shrewsbury  was  in  the  habit  of  imparting  to  her, 
as  if  she  were  doing  a  friendly  act  to  her  cousin. 
Lady  Shrewsbury's  tales  are  too  much  after  the  taste 
of  her  own  day  to  be  quotable  in  ours.  In  her 
recitals  the  lightness  and  indecorum  of  Elisabeth's 
conduct  with  Leicester,  Hatton,  Alencon  and  his 
gentleman-in-waiting,  Simier,  have  taken  gross  and 
monstrous  form.  Equally  nettling  and  more  morti- 
fying— if  it  had  ever  reached  Elisabeth's  eye — 
is  the  picture  of  her  credulous  vanity  and  vulgar 
violence.  Lady  Shrewsbury  was  in  the  habit  of 
mimicking  her  royal  mistress  for  the  amusement  of 
Mary's  ladies.  She  would  quote  the  fulsome  flatteries 
offered  to  Elisabeth  by  her  courtiers,  and  describe  how 
she  and  Lady    Lennox  would  not  catch  each  other's 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END       265 

eye  for  fear  of  bursting  into  laughter.  There  were 
stories,  too,  of  broken  fingers  and  cut  hands  among 
the  maids  of  honour.  Mary  ended  her  accusations, 
though  not  without  signs  of  being  a  little  ashamed, 
with  an  account  of  the  homage  Lady  Shrewsbury  and 
her  daughter,  Lady  Talbot,  had  offered  her  personally. 

The  letter  is  like  an  impish  flame  suddenly  darting 
up  from  a  witch's  cauldron,  luridly  illuminating  and 
distorting  the  figures  of  the  three  ladies  standing 
round  it.  Had  it  reached  Elisabeth  she  would  have 
been  almost  justified  in  the  eye  of  posterity  for 
taking  her  correspondent's  life.  The  letter — a 
beautifully  written  autograph — lies  among  the  Hat- 
field papers.  Perhaps  the  prudence  of  Burghley 
arrested  it.  It  is  more  probable  that  Mary,  having 
eased  her  bosom  of  this  perilous  stuff,  laid  it  aside 
where  it  was  found  with  her  other  papers  when  her 
drawers  were  rifled,  two  years  later  at  Chartley. 

Lady  Shrewsbury  and  her  sons  were  forced  to 
make  public  acknowledgment  of  their  faults.  Pro- 
bably the  incident  hastened  if  it  did  not  cause  Mary's 
removal  out  of  the  hands  of  Lord  Shrewsbury. 
The  much-enduring  but  irritable  earl  received  a  new 
office  which  would  necessarily  take  him  much  from 
home.  When  he  kissed  Elisabeth's  hands  on  his 
appointment,  he  thanked  her  for  freeing  him  from  two 
she-devils. 

For  years  Mary  had  dreaded  this  change  of  keeper. 
She  had  a  haunting  fear  of  poison  or  secret  violence, 
and  believed  that  either  might  be  her  fate  if  she  fell 
into  the  hands  of  Huntingdon  or  any  other  follower 
of  the  unprincipled  Earl  of  Leicester.  But  when  the 
change  actually  came  she  acquiesced  in  it  hopefully. 
She  was  removed  to  Wingfield,  as  ample  and  pleasant 


266  MARY  STUART 

a  dwelling  as  any  she  had  ever  occupied  ;  the  servants 
were  chosen  from  the  familiar  household  at  Sheffield ; 
her  jailor,  Sir  Ralph  Sadler,  if  not  easily  won  to 
sympathy,  was  a  just  and  honourable  gentleman. 
Mary  believed  that  the  change  was  a  preliminary  to 
a  modified  liberty  with  residence  in  England. 

Her  hopes  of  help  from  abroad  were  at  the  lowest. 
There  had  been  a  change  of  Popes.  Guise  had 
thoughts  and  ambitions  for  nothing  but  the  Holy 
League  of  which  he  was  the  head ;  Philip  gave  no 
sign  ;  the  very  priests  in  exile  were  disheartened  and 
were  resigning  themselves  to  merely  spiritual  activity. 
Nothing  remained  for  Mary  but  to  make  such  terms 
as  she  could  for  herself. 

The  danger  of  plots  and  assassination  had  driven 
the  English  government  to  an  extreme  measure. 
An  "Association"  was  drawn  up  in  September  (1584) 
and  signed  with  enthusiasm  by  nobles  and  magistrates. 
This  bound  all  Englishmen  to  prosecute  to  the  death 
such  as  should  conspire  against  the  Queen,  and 
declared  also  that  all,  on  whose  behalf  such  a  con- 
spiracy was  made,  were  ipso  facto  deprived  of  any 
right  they  might  claim  to  the  succession,  a  measure 
aimed  pointedly  at  the  Queen  of  Scots.  Mary  was 
now  reckless  in  the  concessions  she  was  prepared  to 
make,  she  went  the  length  of  promising  to  sign,  her- 
self, the  Bond  of  Association,  though  she  knew  and  was 
prepared  for  the  fact  that  this  treaty  would  cut  her  off 
from  her  foreign  allies  and  alienate  Catholic  sympathies. 
As  an  earnest  of  sincerity  she  wrote  to  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Glasgow  to  bid  Guise  and  her  other  friends 
stop  plotting  on  her  behalf. 

Every  year  was  adding  to  the  political  importance 
of  James ;    henceforth    he    had   to  be  included  as  a 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END       267 

third  party  in  every  negotiation  between  the  two 
Queens.  To  Mary  this  seemed  to  add  strength  to 
her  position.  Like  other  indifferent  parents,  she  had  a 
simple  faith  in  the  unquenchable  instinct  of  filial  affec- 
tion. In  the  spring  of  1584  she  had  said  confidently 
to  Waad,  one  of  Elisabeth's  commissioners,  "  I  know 
the  child  doth  love  me  and  will  not  deal  with  the 
Queen  without  my  advice. "  She  believed,  or  rather 
took  for  granted,  that  her  son  had  gratefully  accepted 
the  proposed  Act  of  Association  with  her,  though  it 
had  neither  been  confirmed  by  Parliament  nor 
published  to  the  world.  Alas !  benefactions  are 
differently  regarded  by  donors  and  recipients.  To 
Mary  the  legal  status  confirmed  to  her  son  by  the 
Act  of  Association  and  the  alliance  of  her  friends  and 
kinsfolk,  the  Catholic  powers,  seemed  inestimable 
boons.  To  James,  a  ruler  de facto  from  infancy,  the 
advantages  seemed  shadowy,  while  the  possibility  that 
a  headstrong,  capable,  Catholic  woman  (practically  a 
stranger)  might  claim  a  share  in  his  government, 
offered  serious  inconveniences. 

Arran,  the  omnipotent  favourite,  was  in  bad 
repute  with  the  Catholics.  He  suddenly  persuaded 
James  to  form  the  closest  alliance  with  England  to 
the  exclusion  of  all  foreign  powers.  James  was  not 
merely  prepared  to  abandon  his  mother  but  to  buy 
the  Queen  of  England's  favour  by  a  complete  revela- 
tion of  the  plots  of  the  past  five  years. 

When  Mary  learned  that  her  son's  ambassador 
to  the  English  court  was  to  be  the  young  Master  of 
Gray,  she  was  at  first  reassured,  she  knew  him  as  a 
young  man  devoted  to  her  interests.  A  year  or  two 
earlier  he  had  been  in  the  Duke  of  Guise's  household. 
Old  Beaton,  confident  in  the  good  faith  of  a  "  Brother 


268  MARY  STUART 

Scot,"  had  initiated  him  far  more  than  Morgan  thought 
prudent  into  the  secrets  of  the  Catholic  plot.  He 
had  been  in  correspondence  with  Mary  herself.  On 
hearing  of  his  coming  to  London,  she  warmly  com- 
mended him  to  the  French  ambassador. 

It  is  difficult  to  understand  how  the  figure  of 
Patrick,  Master  of  Gray  has — up  till  quite  recently — 
escaped  the  hands  of  the  historical  romance  writer. 
He  could  step  without  alteration  into  a  novel  of  Louis 
Stevenson.  He  was  of  singular  beauty  and  possessed 
many  graces  and  accomplishments  including  the  culti- 
vation of  romantic  friendship  characteristic  of  the  time. 
He  had  the  grace  to  covet,  and  the  charm  to  win  the 
affection  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  the  purest  spirit  of  the 
age,  while  at  the  same  time  treachery  and  cold-hearted 
cruelty  were  as  instinctive  with  him  as  attractive 
manners  and  free  and  forcible  utterance. 

A  letter  from  him  to  Mary  after  his  arrival  in 
London  is  one  of  the  saddest  landmarks  in  her 
history.  It  marks  the  fact  that  she  was  no  longer  of 
any  account,  and  might  be  neglected  and  insulted  with 
impunity. 

At  this  time  Mary  had,  as  ambassador  at  the 
Scottish  court,  Fontenay,  a  brother  of  Nau.  Both 
these  Frenchmen  were  clever,  talkative,  self-important 
men,  probably  underbred  and  certainly  offensive  to 
the  Scottish  and  English  noblemen  with  whom  they 
had  to  do  business.  To  Fontenay  Mary  had  written 
uneasily  of  rumours  which  had  reached  her  of  Gray's 
intended  defection.  The  letter  arrived  before  the 
Master's  departure  south.  Fontenay  showed  it  to 
James  and  he,  knowing  no  reticence  with  any  of  his 
favourites,  showed  it  at  once  to  Gray. 

Gray  in    writing    to    the    Queen   showed   all   the 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END       269 

irritation  of  an  injured  school-boy.  He  accounted 
himself  ungratefully  used  and  evil-requited,  and  swore 
that  while  he  lived  he  would  not  meddle  with  her 
service  again  "even  if  it  might  advantage  me  ten 
millions  of  money. "  He  sneers  at  her  majesty's 
employing  such  a  fantastic  creature  as  Fontenay  as 
her  ambassador ;  advises  her,  with  insolent  patronage, 
to  "follow  some  quiet,  calm,  and  solid  course,"  and 
"to  take  with  the  Queen  of  England  some  honest, 
friendly  and  quiet  dress." 

It  took  weeks  of  waiting  to  force  on  Mary  the 
suspicion  that  her  son  was  deliberately  separating  her 
interests  from  his  own.  She  vehemently  entreated 
the  French  ambassador  to  go  to  Scotland  or  to  send 
a  Scottish  Commissioner  to  her.  She  wrote  to 
Burghley  and  to  Elisabeth  begging  to  have  her 
letters  sent  on  to  her  son.  There  is  a  pitiful  little 
fragment  of  a  letter  to  James  on  the  5th  January 
[I5^5]  "I  never  heard  of  any  difficulty  you  had 
raised  before  so  that  Gray's  conduct  seems  to  me 
horribly  strange,  I  never  imagined  that  either  you 
whom  I  love  so  much,  nor  he  who  had  given  so 
many  assurances  of  his  service,  could  have  tried  to 
gain  advantage  by  this  treaty  at  my  cost." 

Gray  carried  his  embassy  to  the  desired  issue. 
James  repudiated  the  "  Act  of  Association,"  and 
deserted  his  mother  for  vague  promises  of  the 
succession,  a  pension  of  five  thousand  a  year — cut 
down  afterwards  to  four — and  a  gift  of  six  couple  of 
bloodhounds.  "The  king's  mind  did  so  run  on  these" 
that  their  delay  nearly  upset  the  negotiations.  As 
Mary  had  said  in  the  first  hour  of  his  birth,  he  was  only 
"  too  much "  Darnley's  son.  The  dark,  silent  days 
brought  to  Mary  the  slow  conviction  that  what  she 


270  MARY  STUART 

refused  to  believe  was  only  too  true.  Fortunately  for 
herself  the  passion  of  indignation  was  always  stronger 
with  her  than  the  meaner  instinct  of  self-pity.  She 
wrote  to  the  French  ambassador  requiring  him  to 
withhold  the  title  of  king  from  James.  "  A  mother's 
curse  shall  light  upon  him,  I  will  deprive  him 
of  all  the  greatness  to  which  through  me  he  can 
pretend  in  the  world.  He  shall  have  nothing  but 
what  he  inherits  from  his  father.  No  punishment 
human  or  divine  will  be  adequate  to  such  enormous 
ingratitude." 

She  went  a  step  further  in  her  concessions  to 
Elisabeth.  She  offered  to  renounce  all  pretensions 
to  the  English  succession  alike  for  herself  and  her 
posterity.  Of  this  last  offer  no  notice  was  taken, 
but  such  new  rigours  were  shown  in  her  treatment 
that,  looking  back  on  the  long  and  painful  years  at 
Sheffield,  they  must  have  seemed,  in  comparison,  a 
time  of  ease  and  liberty. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE    BABINGTON    CONSPIRACY 
January  1585 — September  1586 

IN  the  dead  of  the  winter — January  1585 — when 
Mary's  hopes  were  lowest  and  her  anxieties  most 
acute,  Sir  Ralph  Sadler  received  orders  to  remove  his 
charge  to  Tutbury.  (The  double  courts  and  extensive 
buildings  at  Wingfield  made  it  a  difficult  and  expensive 
place  to  defend.)  Of  Tutbury  Mary  had  nightmare 
recollections.  It  had  been  the  scene  of  her  first 
imprisonment  sixteen  years  previously ;  a  favourite 
lady-in-waiting,  Mademoiselle  Rallay,  had  died  there ; 
so  great  had  the  discomfort  been  on  the  earlier  visit 
that  the  Shrewsbury  household  could  only  endure  it 
for  a  month  or  two  at  a  time.  During  the  intervening 
years,  the  draughty,  sunless  rooms  had  stood  vacant, 
plaster  was  falling  from  the  walls,  neither  hasty 
repairs,  nor  the  furniture  brought  from  Lord  Paget's 
forfeited  house  in  the  neighbourhood,  could  remove 
the  clammy  chill  that  clung  to  flagged  floors  and 
dilapidated  walls.  Household  stuff  was  inadequate, 
the  linen  sent  down  by  Elisabeth  was  so  worn  and 
coarse  that  Mary's  servants  refused  to  use  it.  Faith- 
ful servants  are  capable  of  great  sacrifices  but  they  are 
rarely  prepared  to  endure  small  discomforts.  Many 
of  Mary's  household  desired  to  throw  up  their  posts, 
but  from  lack  of  passports  were   forced  to  stay  on, 

reluctant  and  complaining. 

271 


272  MARY  STUART 

The  friendly  servants  of  Lord  Shrewsbury  had  been 
left  at  Wingfield.  Mary  realised  how  hostile  and  how 
acridly  Protestant  a  household  she  had  fallen  into 
when,  from  her  window,  she  saw  Sir  Ralph  Sadler's 
servants  roughly  tormenting  a  young  Catholic  gentle- 
man who  was  kept  a  prisoner  in  close  proximity  to 
the  Queen.  One  morning  when  she  looked  out  she 
saw  him  hanging  from  his  window.  Probably  misery 
had  driven  the  poor  wretch  to  suicide,  but  it  quickened 
in  the  Queen  her  constant  terror  of  sudden  violence. 

In  April  matters  grew  worse  when  Sir  Ralph  Sadler, 
urging  his  age  as  a  reason,  gave  up  the  distasteful 
office  of  Mary's  keeper. 

Of  his  successor,  Sir  Amyas  Paulet,  Mary  had 
heard  much  from  her  friends  in  France  where  he 
had  been  English  ambassador  for  several  years.  She 
knew  him  to  be  a  Protestant  of  the  kind  which  was 
beginning  to  be  called  "  Puritan,"  and  as  one  bitterly 
opposed  to  her  claims.  There  is  no  need  to  go  to 
his  enemies  for  an  account  of  Amyas  Paulet ;  they 
could  not  draw  a  more  repellent  portrait  of  the 
man,  than  we  gather  from  his  own  numerous  letters. 

It  is  difficult  to  imagine  Shrewsbury,  and  far  less 
Sir  Francis  Knollys,  lending  themselves  to  the  cold- 
blooded plot  by  which  Walsingham  decoyed  Mary  to 
her  ruin,  but  Paulet  played  his  part  in  it,  not  only  with 
sanctimonious  satisfaction  in  the  ends,  but  with  a  sort 
of  hard  pleasure  in  the  means.  A  solemn,  dull  man, 
he  waxes  jocose  when  he  describes  her  physical 
sufferings  or  impotent  bursts  of  indignation.  Duty 
appealed  most  to  his  conscience  in  the  form  of 
thwarting  his  charge. 

A  day  or  two  after  Sir  Ralph's  departure  he  tore 
down  the  cloth  of  state  in  the  dining-hall,  declaring 


THE  BABINGTON  CONSPIRACY       273 

that  as  Mary  was  so  much  confined  to  her  own  room, 
these  insignia  of  royalty  were  unnecessary  and  un- 
suitable. He  put  a  sudden  stop  to  the  liberal  distribution 
of  alms  which  she  caused  to  be  made  in  the  neighbour- 
ing little  town.  She  belonged  to  a  church  which  teaches 
that  the  prayers  of  the  poor  are  the  wealth  of  the 
faithful,  and  in  days  of  sickness  and  depression  the 
thought  of  these  humble  bedesmen  had  been  a  comfort 
to  her,  but  Paulet  was  convinced  that  the  only  chance 
of  safety  lay  in  cutting  off  the  Queen  and  her  house- 
hold from  all  human  fellowship.  His  religious  zeal 
was  eager  to  get  rid  of  one  of  Mary's  servants  whom 
his  instinct  had  "smelled  out"  to  be  a  priest,  but  on 
this  point  Elisabeth  would  give  him  no  authority. 
Incorruptible  he  was  and,  it  would  seem,  that  Mary 
recognised  this,  and  never  tried  to  bribe  him  with 
hopes  of  advancement  at  her  accession  as  Morgan  had 
advised  her  to  do.  A  notable  householder,  he  entered 
with  zeal  into  Elisabeth's  plans  for  reducing  expendi- 
ture, so  that  Mary  was  constrained  at  last  to  complain 
to  the  French  ambassador  of  the  quality  of  the  food 
supplied  to  her. 

A  succession  of  French  ambassadors  had  been,  ex 
officio,  helpful  and  courteous  friends  to  Mary  without 
lending  themselves  to  plots  against  Queen  Elisabeth. 
Her  special  friend  Castelnan  de  Mauvissiere  was  in 
this  summer  recalled,  and  when,  in  August,  Monsieur 
de  Chateauneuf  took  his  place,  Mary  was  suddenly 
informed  that  this,  her  one  approved  mode  of  com- 
munication with  the  outside  world,  was  to  be  closed 
and  that  henceforth  her  letters,  to  her  kinsfolk,  her 
son,  her  ambassador  in  Paris  and  her  men  of  business, 
were  all  to  go  through  the  hands  of  Walsingham. 

It  was,   as   we    shall   see,   part  of  Walsingham's 

s 


274  MARY  STUART 

scheme  for  reducing  Mary  to  desperation.  Almost 
simultaneously  with  this  disconcerting  arrangement, 
Mary  learned  the  rapprochement  between  her  son 
and  Elisabeth.  In  her  helpless  anger  she  began  to 
nurse  the  chimerical  idea  that  she  might,  if  James 
persisted  in  his  heresy,  cut  him  off  from  all  the  rights 
he  inherited  through  her  and  transfer  them  to  Philip 
of  Spain.  A  document  to  this  effect  was  found  in 
the  following  year  among  her  papers  at  Chartley. 

In  total  ignorance  of  what  was  passing  in  the 
great  world  outside,  her  life  seemed  to  be  narrowing 
down  to  a  round  of  physical  suffering  and  petty 
annoyances  at  Tutbury.  In  this  mood  she  probably 
wrote  these  mournful  verses,  so  different  in  their 
sombre  reality  from  the  conventional,  melodious,  little 
elegy  on  her  first  husband's  death. 

"  Que  suis-je,  helas  et  a  quoi  sert  ma  vie  ? 
Je  ne  suis  fors  qu'un  corps  prive  de  coeur, 
Un  ombre  vain,  un  objet  de  malheur 
Qui  n'a  plus  rien  que  de  mourir  envie. 
.....  • 

Et  vous,  amis,  qui  m'avez  tenu  chere 
Souvenez-vous  que  sans  heur,  sans  sante 
Je  ne  sgaurais  aucune  bonne  ceuvre  faire 
Souhaitez  done  fin  de  calamite." 

Having  cut  her  off  from  all  communication  with 
the  outer  world,  her  enemies  might  have  ceased  to 
dread  her  as  a  danger  to  the  Commonwealth.  But 
nothing  could  alter  the  facts  that  she  was  the  next 
heir  to  the  throne  and  that  a  majority  of  the  English 
nobility  would  prefer  her  right  to  that  of  James  or 
any  other  claimant.  Though  Elisabeth  steadily  re- 
fused to  face  the  fact  of  her  own  mortality,  Walsingham 
was  perfectly  alive  to  what  would  happen  at  her  death. 
To  secure  the  accession  of  a  Protestant  sovereign 


SIR    I  RANCIS   WALSINGHAM 


THE  BABINGTON  CONSPIRACY       275 

the  Catholic  heir-apparent  must  be  got  out  of  the  way 
at  all  costs.  A  case  must  be  made  out  against  Mary 
that  would  bring  her  within  reach  of  the  Bond  of 
Association,  she  must  be  proved  accessory  to  a  plot 
against  the  life  of  Elisabeth. 

Such  plots  were  being  hatched  continually.  The 
idea  of  regicide  had  become  fatally  familiar  among 
the  Catholic  conspirators  in  France.  More  than  one 
wrong-headed  enthusiast  like  Parry  or  Savage  had 
come  to  England  with  murderous  intention.  But 
either  opportunity  was  lacking,  or  they  were  over- 
awed by  the  serene  courage  of  Elisabeth,  who  would 
allow  no  precautions  to  be  taken. 

A  large  body  of  habitual  plotters  necessarily 
counts  a  certain  number  of  traitors  in  their  ranks. 
Amongst  the  Catholic  exiles  almost  all  were  cut  off 
from  any  means  of  livelihood  except  what  could  be 
wrung  from  Mary's  slender  means  or  the  uncertain 
liberality  of  the  Spanish  king.  Poverty  and  oppor- 
tunity furnished  Walsingham  with  a  competent  selec- 
tion of  spies  drawn  from  Catholic  and  a  few  even 
from  priestly  ranks.  Among  these  was  a  certain 
Gilbert  Gifford.  His  family  was  creditably  known 
for  its  devotion  and  suffering  in  the  Catholic  cause. 
He  was  in  deacon's  orders  and  had  been  brought  up 
from  boyhood  in  the  seminary  at  Rheims.  His  name 
and  his  intimate  knowledge  of  all  that  concerned  the 
Church  were  sufficient  credentials  among  English 
Catholics.  He  had  quick  parts,  extraordinary  flexi- 
bility and  that  entire  absence  of  heart  and  conscience 
which  an  exclusively  religious  upbringing  produces  in 
an  irreligious  nature.  He  was  well  known  to  Morgan, 
Paget,  Mendoza  and  Mary's  other  friends  in  Paris. 
When,  in  the  spring  of  1585,  he  offered  his  services 


276  MARY  STUART 

to  Walsingham,  he  must  have  seemed  the  very 
instrument  the  Secretary  was  in  search  of.  Another 
of  Walsingham's  creatures,  a  man  Phelipps,  had 
a  special,  highly  developed  knack  of  making  out 
ciphers.  At  one  time  he  had  offered  his  services 
to  Morgan  who  had  mentioned  his  name  to  Mary. 
Through  these  men  Walsingham  was  determined 
that  a  way  should  be  opened  by  which  Mary  could 
communicate  with  her  friends.  Elisabeth  was,  from 
the  first,  privy  to  the  plan,  though  one  is  glad  to 
believe  that  Burghley  was  not  consulted. 

All  summer  Mary  had  complained  of  the  squalor 
of  her  lodging  at  Tutbury,  hardly  expecting  her 
complaints  to  be  attended  to,  but,  in  September,  her 
guardian  was  ordered  to  inspect  various  houses  in  the 
neighbourhood.  One  was  actually  the  family  home 
of  the  Giffords.  It  was  rejected,  but  Chartley  the 
adjoining  property  was  chosen.  The  house  was 
roomy  and  well  built,  surrounded  by  a  moat  and  easy 
to  defend.  The  place  and  neighbourhood  were 
thoroughly  familiar  to  Gifford  ;  he  could  come  and  go 
with  less  suspicion.  From  previous  knowledge  of 
the  townsfolk  he  could  select  an  agent  among 
the  baser  sort  in  the  neighbouring  town  of  Burton. 
This  agent  he  found  in  the  brewer  who  weekly 
supplied  beer  to  the  Scottish  household  at  Chartley. 

In  the  middle  of  January  [1586]  a  hint  was  con- 
veyed to  Nau  to  watch  the  next  barrel  that  should 
be  delivered.  In  it  was  found  a  water-tight  box  and 
in  that  a  ciphered  letter  from  the  faithful  Morgan,  the 
first  communication  from  her  friends  that  had  reached 
Mary  for  months.  The  letter,  dated  the  previous 
October,  was  entirely  in  recommendation  of  the  bearer 
Gifford  to  whose  skill  and  faithfulness  Morgan  declared 


THE  BABINGTON  CONSPIRACY      277 

that  Mary  could  safely  commit  her  correspondence. 
She  acted  in  this  confidence,  and  all  her  letters  passed 
at  once  into  Walsingham's  hands. 

To  her  it  was  a  new  spring  of  life.  The  great, 
living  world  with  its  friendly  powers,  its  secret  com- 
binations, its  exhilarating  possibilities,  were  hers 
again,  and  all  her  dormant  energies  rose  up  fully 
alive.  She  accepted  Gifford's  credentials  without 
misgiving,  showered  rewards  with  a  lavish  hand  on 
him  and  on  "  the  honest  man "  (the  cant  name  by 
which  Paulet  and  Walsingham  refer  to  the  brewer), 
and  on  every  subordinate  messenger.  For  months 
her  correspondence  had  been  accumulating  at  the 
French  embassy.  By  Gifford's  contrivance,  a  large 
packet  of  letters  was  conveyed  in  succeeding  barrels. 
Soon  Mary  and  her  secretaries  were  vigorously  at 
work,  weaving  the  old  web  of  intrigue  with  Spain 
and  Guise  and  the  Catholic  nobility  both  of  Scot- 
land and  England. 

The  hopes  from  Spain,  though  they  were  to  prove 
mirage  to  Mary,  were  of  course  founded  on  the 
reasonable  grounds  that  Philip's  vast  preparations 
were  already  well  known.  She  put  herself  at  once 
into  touch  with  Mendoza,  informed  him  of  her  inten- 
tion of  transferring  all  her  rights  to  his  master  and 
begged  that  he  would  take  her  under  his  protection. 
The  Catholics  in  Scotland  had  compacted  themselves 
into  a  party ;  she  wrote  to  Lord  Claude  Hamilton 
appointing  him  her  lieutenant,  and  planning  a  rising 
in  Scotland  to  be  simultaneous  with  the  Spanish 
invasion  of  England.  So  far  it  was  the  familiar, 
hopeful  and  hopeless  old  game.  But  the  letters  that 
kept  pouring  in  during  the  spring  (1586)  brought  new 
elements  into  the  plot. 


278  MARY  STUART 

To  Mendoza,  Paget  and  Morgan,  the  desperate 
remedy  of  regicide  seemed  the  only  effectual  policy ; 
the  casuistry  and  fanaticism  of  certain  priests  at 
Rheims  added  a  halo  of  religious  heroism  to  the  deed. 
Early  in  1586  a  soldier,  Savage  by  name,  had  been 
stirred  up  by  Gifford's  brother — a  sincere  Catholic — 
to  undertake  the  deed  and  was  in  England  watching 
for  his  opportunity.  About  the  same  time,  a  priest 
called  Ballard,  after  consultation  with  Mendoza,  Paget 
and  Morgan,  arrived  in  England  with  a  more  organised 
plan  for  the  same  object.  A  few  days  later  he  fell 
in  with  a  young  Catholic  gentleman  of  fashion,  Antony 
Babington. 

Four  miles  across  the  uplands  from  Wingfield, 
lay  the  Manor  house  of  Dethick,  the  home  of  the 
ancient  family  of  Babington.  The  family  was  Catholic 
and  the  mother  a  devout  woman.  On  his  father's 
death  in  1571  Antony,  a  boy  of  ten,  became  the  ward 
of  Lord  Shrewsbury.  Young  gentlemen  of  quality, 
in  those  days,  usually  received  the  better  part  of 
their  training  as  pages  in  the  house  of  some  great 
nobleman.  It  is  probable  that  Antony  passed  a  year 
or  two  at  Sheffield  Castle  at  the  impressionable  age. 
He  may  there  have  given  his  young  devotion,  as 
Willie  Douglas  did  at  the  same  age,  to  the  tall,  sorrow- 
ful woman  with  the  haunting  eyes  and  winning  grace 
of  manner. 

Later  he  went  to  London  and  was  well  received 
at  court.  In  the  midst  of  a  career  of  pleasure,  there 
came  upon  him  the  religious  quickening  inspired  by 
the  preaching  and  death  of  Campian.  With  other 
young  men  of  the  same  way  of  thinking  he  formed  a 
Catholic  league  and  was  for  some  time  in  correspond- 
ence with  Mary  and  her  agents. 


THE  BABINGTON  CONSPIRACY       279 

His  associates  in  London,  courtiers  and  young 
men  of  fashion,  shared  also  his  religious  faith  and 
his  political  hopes.  Among  them,  several  were 
members  of  Elisabeth's  household,  all  were  frequenters 
of  her  presence  ;  but  in  a  society  where  promotion 
went  by  court  favour  there  must  always  have  been  a 
number  of  disappointed  or  impatient  men,  restless, 
selfish  spirits  eager  to  welcome  any  change. 

Religious  zeal,  vanity,  boyish  romance,  the  fascina- 
tion of  a  secret  combination,  and  the  contagion  of 
the  sterner  enthusiasm  of  men  like  Savage  and  Ballard 
carried  those  poor  lads  beyond  all  bounds  of  prudence 
and  conscience.  At  the  end  of  May  they  had  a 
complete  scheme  to  submit  to  Mendoza  who,  with 
hearty  approbation,  forwarded  it  to  Philip,  urging  his 
support  of  a  work  "  so  christian  just  and  advantageous 
to  your  majesty." 

The  plot  had  three  distinct  objects,  the  old  plan 
of  a  Catholic  rising  to  synchronise  with  a  Spanish 
invasion.  The  prelude  was  to  be  a  dash  on  Chartley 
to  rescue  the  Queen  and  simultaneously,  the  assassina- 
tion of  her  rival.  Six  gentlemen,  of  whom  Savage 
was  one,  volunteered  for  the  more  dangerous  task, 
Babington  was  himself,  with  ten  other  gentlemen,  to 
head  the  body  of  horsemen  who  were  to  deliver  the 
Queen  of  Scots. 

Prudence  on  the  part  of  the  conspirators  should 
have  kept  Mary  in  entire  ignorance  of  the  darker 
aspects  of  the  plot,  but  they  were  accustomed  to  look  to 
her  as  to  the  brain  and  will  controlling  all  their  actions. 
Morgan  hesitated,  indeed,  to  mix  her  up  with  a 
desperate  man  like  Ballard,  "a  priest  well  disposed 
for  your  majesty's  service,  at  present  following  matters 
of  consequence,  the  issue  of  which  is  uncertain."     But 


280  MARY  STUART 

his  exultation  breaks  out  unguardedly  in  his  postscript 
to  Curie,  "  I  am  not  unoccupied,  although  I  be  in 
prison,  to  think  of  her  majesty's  state  and  yours  which 
endure  with  her ;  and  there  be  many  means  in  hand  to 
remove  the  beast  that  troiibleth  all  the  world." 

About  the  same  date  Morgan  urged  Mary  to 
reopen  communication  with  Babington.  On  June  25th 
she  wrote  him  a  gracious  little  note  encouraging  him  to 
write  to  her.  All  letters,  both  written  by  her  or  to  her, 
passed  through  Walsingham's  hands.  Through  his 
secret  agents  he  knew  also  every  movement  of 
Babington  and  his  excitable  young  following.  Gifford, 
that  impenetrable  traitor,  was  so  deep  in  their  counsels 
that  it  was  he  and  not  Ballard  who,  early  in  August, 
communicated  the  completed  scheme  to  Mendoza. 

Alert  and  vigilant,  Walsingham's  secret  service 
concentrated  all  attention  now  on  Mary  and  Babington. 
On  the  sixth  of  July  Babington  wrote  his  fatal  letter  to 
his  "  very  dear  sovereign."  He  explained  the  plans 
for  the  invasion,  for  her  rescue  and  for  the  assassina- 
tion, and  he  begged  her  to  assure  the  six  gentlemen 
who  were  to  undertake  the  "  tragic  execution "  of 
honourable  recompense  "  either  of  themselves  if  they 
survived  or  in  their  posterity." 

The  prey  was  almost  in  Walsingham's  grasp.  To 
obviate  all  risk  of  delay  or  miscarriage,  his  decipherer 
Phellipps,  was  sent  down  to  Chartley  while  Babington's 
letter  reached  Mary  through  the  usual  channel. 

Quite  unconscious  of  her  danger  Mary  noted  a 
stranger  saluting  her  smilingly  as  she  drove  past. 
She  learned  his  name  and,  wondering  vaguely  if  he 
were  the  man  Morgan  had  once  mentioned  to  her, 
wrote  this  description  of  him,  "  He  is  of  low  stature, 
slender  every   way,  dark,  yellow-haired  on  the  head 


THE  BABINGTON  CONSPIRACY       281 

and  clear  yellow-bearded,  pitted  in  the  face  with 
smallpox,  short-sighted  and,  as  it  appears,  about  forty 
years  of  age."  There  is  something  horridly  suggestive 
of  a  weasel  about  this  description,  and  there  was  some- 
thing of  the  cold-blooded  cruelty  of  the  animal  in  the 
man's  nature.  Eagerly  Paulet  and  Phellipps  lifted  the 
return  packet  from  the  barrel  and  tore  it  open.  But 
they  found  merely  letters  to  Lord  Claude  and  to  the 
French  ambassador,  and  a  short  note  to  Babington 
promising  a  full  reply  by  the  next  opportunity.  "  We 
attend  her  very  heart  in  the  next,"  wrote  Phellipps  to 
Walsinaham. 

o 

It  was  indeed  all  "her  heart"  they  found  and  all 
her  brain,  the  buoyancy  that  after  so  many  disappoint- 
ments could  rise  responsive  to  a  new  hope,  and  the 
politic  energy  that  could  provide  for  all  practical  points. 
She  suggested  three  alternative  plans  for  her  own 
rescue,  urged  secrecy,  expedition,  a  careful  leaning 
on  Spain  and — further? 

This  letter  to  Babington  has  been  the  subject  of  a 
controversy  almost  as  voluminous  and  heated  as  that 
which  has  raged  round  the  Casket  Letters.  As  it 
stands  in  the  decipher  made  by  Phellipps  at  Chartley 
[and  neither  the  original  sent  to  Babington  nor  any 
draught  prepared  by  Mary  for  her  secretaries  was  ever 
found]  the  letter  accepts  the  fact  of  the  assassination 
without  a  tremor,  and  arranges  in  a  business-like  way 
for  messengers  on  swift  horses  who  are  to  convey  the 
news  to  her  deliverers  before  it  can  reach  her  jailors. 

Both  Tytler  and  Prince  Labanoff  have  made  out 
a  good  case  for  a  forgery,  and  to  them  the  curious  in 
such  matters  must  be  referred.  It  is  perfectly  credible 
that  the  passage  in  Mary's  letter  explicitly  discussing 
the  plan  for  the  assassination  may  have  been  inserted 


282  MARY  STUART 

by  Phellipps ;  for  the  age  was  unscrupulous  and 
Walsingham  required  definite  evidence.  But  that 
Mary  knew  and  approved  of  the  plan  is  proved  by  a 
sentence  in  a  letter  from  Mendoza  to  Philip  written  in 
the  following  September,  "  I  believe  the  Queen  of 
Scots  to  be  acquainted  with  the  whole  affair  from  a 
letter  she  has  written  to  me."  That  letter  Mendoza, 
it  would  appear,  did  not  forward  to  Philip,  at  least  it 
has  not  been  found  at  Simancas. 

If  Mary's  consent  to  the  murder  be  a  crass  fact, 
not  to  be  got  over,  it  is  of  small  use  to  condemn  her 
or  to  apologise  for  her.  She  was  fighting  in  a  life 
and  death  struggle.  "  Mors  Elisabethae  vita  Marise, 
vita  Mariae  mors  Elisabethae,"  so  Mendoza  had 
summed  up  the  case  some  years  previously.  The 
Bond  of  Association  had  infinitely  increased  the 
danger  on  Mary's  side.  If  judge  her  we  must,  let  it  be 
by  the  standard  of  an  age  when  Knox  applauded  the 
murders  of  Beaton  and  Riccio,  and  Elisabeth  and  her 
ministers  were  disappointed  that  the  Scots  Lords  had 
failed  to  make  away  with  Arran  and  dAubigny. 

Walsingham  had  secured  what  he  wanted.  It 
was  now  time  to  put  a  stop  to  the  plot  and  to  scatter 
the  plotters,  lest  in  a  sudden  access  of  resolution  they 
should  really  make  an  attempt  on  Elisabeth's  life. 

Ballard  was  the  first  whom  it  was  proposed  to 
seize.  He  had  as  many  doublings  as  a  hare  and 
gave  his  pursuers  considerable  trouble.  Babington 
became  alarmed ;  in  an  agony  of  uncertainty,  he  fled 
from  London  one  day  and  braved  Walsingham  in  his 
office  the  next.  On  August  3rd  he  wrote  an  agitated 
letter  to  Mary  entreating  her  for  the  love  of  God  not 
to  give  way  to  discouragement.  "It  is  an  enter- 
prise  honourable    before  God.      We  have   vowed   it 


THE  BABINGTON  CONSPIRACY       283 

and  we  will  carry  it  into  effect  or  it  shall  cost  us  our 
lves. 

Poor  boys !  they  had  vowed  and  vapoured,  taken 
sacraments  and  pledged  toasts,  but  when  it  began  to 
look  like  business,  they  had  little  stomach  for  the 
deed.  They  tried  to  egg  each  other  on  to  the  point 
of  appearing  at  court  but  their  hearts  failed  and  dis- 
tractedly they  scattered  and  fled.  A  night  or  two 
was  spent  sleeping  out  in  the  bosky  solitudes  of  St 
John's  wood ;  a  hospitable  Catholic  household  at 
Harrow  offered  an  asylum  for  the  night  to  one  or 
two  of  the  fugitives  (their  host  afterwards  atoned  for 
his  tender-heartedness  on  the  scaffold).  One  after  the 
other  they  were  caught,  and  within  a  few  days  all 
were  lodged  in  the  Tower. 

What  Walsingham  required  was  more  written 
evidence,  evidence  in  Mary's  own  hand.  If  the  slight- 
est suspicion  reached  Chartley  all  documents  would 
be  destroyed ;  it  was  necessary  to  take  her  and  her 
secretaries  at  unawares. 

Her  new  hopes  had  put  new  life  into  Mary.  In 
pleading  for  more  liberty  she  had  often  urged  that  the 
weakness  of  her  body  made  escape  impracticable  ; 
now  she  was  eager  to  persuade  her  friends  that,  as  of 
old,  she  was  fit  for  rapid  riding  and  long  endurance. 
At  this  time  she  wrote  to  Morgan,  "  I  can  still  use  my 
crossbow  against  a  deer  and  gallop  after  the  hounds." 

On  the  eighth  of  August  Paulet  invited  her  and 
all  her  household  to  hunt  in  Sir  Walter  Ashton's  park 
at  a  few  miles'  distance.  She  was  attended  by  both 
her  secretaries,  Andrew  Melville  the  master  of  her 
household  (the  third  of  three  loyal  brothers),  Bourgoign 
her  physician  and  other  attendants. 

Just  outside   the   park  gate    they  were  suddenly 


284  MARY  STUART 

joined  by  a  body  of  horsemen.  What  wild  hopes 
may  have  surged  up  in  Mary's  heart  of  the  expected 
rescue  party  or  what  dread  of  renewed  rigours  may 
have  chilled  her  spirit  is  merely  a  matter  of  speculation 
to  the  picturesque  historian. 

Riding  up,  Sir  Amyas  Paulet  introduced  the  Queen 
of  England's  messenger  Sir  Thomas  Gorges.  Briefly 
but  unmistakably  his  message  was  delivered :  the 
plot  was  discovered,  the  proofs  of  it  were  in  Elisabeth's 
hands,  the  Queen  of  Scots'  servants  were  involved 
and  must  at  once  be  removed,  Sir  Amyas  would  tell 
her  the  rest. 

As  always  Mary's  instinct  was  for  resistance  ;  she 
called  on  her  servants  to  defend  her.  What  could 
peaceful  gentlemen,  with  crossbows  and  riding  wands, 
effect  against  Paulet's  armed  escort  ?  She  broke  into 
passionate,  impotent  invective  but,  undisturbed,  some 
of  the  party  proceeded  to  secure  Nau  and  Curie  while 
Waad  and  others  galloped  back  to  Chartley  to  search 
for  the  papers,  and  Sir  Amyas  Paulet  led  the  rest  of 
the  party  off  in  an  opposite  direction. 

Mary  dismounted  and  refused  to  go  any  further  ; 
quite  unmoved,  Sir  Amyas  offered  to  send  for  her 
coach.  She  yielded  at  last  because  she  was  power- 
less. In  the  account  preserved  for  us  by  Bourgoign, 
her  physician,  he  describes  her  as  retiring  behind  a 
tree  and  making  a  touching  and  eloquent  prayer.  It 
may  have  been  so,  for  the  habit  of  devotion  was  strong 
in  Mary  and  the  vision  of  a  crown  of  martyrdom  in 
place  of  an  earthly  crown  may  have  begun  already  to 
haunt  her  imagination.  But  the  incident  does  not 
persuade  one  of  its  genuineness  and  it  is  easier  to 
think  of  her  riding  to  Tixall,  fierce,  stricken,  and  with 
death  in  her  soul. 


THE  BABINGTON  CONSPIRACY       285 

The  horrible  fortnight  that  ensued  was  strangely 
like  the  first  weeks  of  her  imprisonment  at  Loch 
Leven.  She  was  in  an  unknown  house,  among 
strangers,  shut  up  in  one  small  apartment.  Two  of 
her  women,  an  equerry,  and  her  apothecary  were  alone 
allowed  to  visit  her.  No  provision  seems  to  have 
been  made  for  a  change  of  clothes.  It  is  painful  to 
think  of  the  length  and  silence  of  those  July  days. 
She  was  kept  in  total  ignorance  of  the  proceedings 
against  her ;  no  one  came  even  to  reproach  or  accuse 
her ;  she  was  not  allowed  the  use  of  pen  or  ink.  In 
an  unending  feverish  round  she  must  have  gone  over 
the  chances  in  her  favour,  tortured  herself  to  remember 
what  papers  had,  and  what  had  not,  been  destroyed, 
weighed  with  lessening  confidence  the  probability  of 
her  secretaries  remaining  staunch,  or  snatched  at  some 
mad  hope  of  a  sudden  intervention  from  Spain. 

Can  one  grudge  her  the  consolation  she  drew  from 
the  persuasion  that  she  was  suffering  for  the  sake  of 
her  religion,  that  her  faithfulness  to  her  Church  was 
the  cause  of  her  enemies'  persecution  ? 

If  only  to  soften  the  bald  agony  of  it  all,  one  would 
gladly,  if  one  dared,  place  in  those  blank  days  at  Tixall 
the  composition  of  a  prayer  which  tradition  has  always 
attributed  to  Mary.* 

"  O  Domine  Deus  speravi  in  te 
O  care  mi  Jesu  nunc  libera  me 
In  dura  catena 
In  misera  poena 
Adoro,  imploro 
Ut  liberes  me." 

*  Unfortunately  the  authority  for  this  beautiful  verse  can  be  traced  no 
further  than  the  eighteenth  century ;  the  same  century  which  pro- 
duced another  poem  attributed  to  Mary,  "Adieu  charmant  pays  de 
France." 


286  MARY  STUART 

Elisabeth  had  entered  into  all  the  arrangements 
for  springing  the  trap  upon  her  prisoner.  One 
can  forgive  her  more  easily  for  acts  of  harshness  than 
for  the  callousness  of  her  message  to  Paulet  "  bidding 
him  write  unto  her  the  whole  story  of  those  things 
done  in  this  matter,  to  the  Queen  of  Scots.  Not  for 
any  other  cause  but  that  her  Majesty  might  take 
pleasure  in  the  reading  thereof." 

She  probably  also  "took  pleasure"  in  handling 
the  jewels  and  objects  of  bric-a-brac  which  were 
brought  from  Chartley,  the  list  of  which  is  candidly 
endorsed  "  Goods  stolen  from  the  Queen  of  Scots." 
In  a  letter  written  to  "  Amyas,  my  most  faithful  and 
careful  subject,"  she  sent  a  message  to  that  "  wicked 
murderess "  who  had  fallen  so  horribly,  "  far  passing 
a  woman's  thought,  much  less  a  prince's."  She  urges 
her  "  to  repent  lest  the  fiend  possess  her  and  so  her 
better  part  be  lost,  which  I  pray  (i.e.  for  her  repent- 
ance) with  hands  uplifted  to  Him  that  may  both  save 
and  spill."  It  is  well  to  carry  this  letter  in  one's  mind, 
when  one  comes  to  consider  a  later  communication  of 
Elisabeth  to  her  "faithful  Amyas." 

On  August  26th  Mary  was  brought  back  to 
Chartley.  As  she  rode  away  from  Tixall  a  crowd  of 
beggars  hung  about  the  gate.  "  I  have  nothing  to 
give  you,"  she  cried  with  tears,  "  I  am  a  beggar  as  well 
as  you,  all  is  taken  from  me." 

Her  first  act  on  arriving  at  Chartley  was  character- 
istic of  the  warm-hearted  woman  whom  all  her  servants 
adored  as  a  mistress.  The  shock  of  her  husband's 
arrest  had  caused  Curie's  wife  to  be  prematurely  con- 
fined. Mary  went  at  once  to  visit  the  anxious  young 
wife  and  said,  in  her  queenly  way,  that  whatever 
accusation  was  brought  against  Curie,  she  would  take 


THE  BABINGTON  CONSPIRACY       287 

it  all  upon  herself.  The  baby,  a  little  girl,  was  alive. 
Mary's  priest  had  been  removed,  Sir  Amyas  gladly 
seizing  the  opportunity  for  dismissing  him,  nor  would 
he  even  admit  an  Anglican  clergyman  to  perform  the 
rite  of  baptism.  Mary,  herself,  taking  the  little  one 
on  her  knees  sprinkled  the  water  on  its  face  saying, 
"  Mary,  I  baptise  thee  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  the 
Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost."  She  was  but  fulfilling  a 
tender  provision  of  the  Church  for  securing  baptism 
for  the  frailest  of  her  little  ones,  but  to  Sir  Amyas, 
looking  on  sourly,  she  seemed  "  to  make  no  conscience 
of  breaking  all  laws  of  God  and  man." 

Meanwhile  the  trial  of  the  conspirators  had  been 
proceeding  with  little  of  resolution  or  heroism  on  the 
one  side  and  no  glimmering  of  mercy  on  the  other. 
In  the  Tower  Babington  had  been  confronted  with 
Phellipp's  decipher  both  of  his  own  letter  to  Mary  and 
of  her  long  one  in  reply.  He  admitted  the  authenticity 
of  both,  but  under  what  compulsion  and  terror  of 
torture,  we  do  not  know. 

On  the  seventeenth  of  September,  he  and  six  of 
his  fellow-conspirators  were  put  to  death  with  circum- 
stances, which  prove  that  "  stern  English  common 
sense,"  as  Mr  Froude  calls  it,  had  nothing  to  learn 
from  Spain  in  refinement  of  cruelty.  But  the  English 
appetite  for  cruelty,  if  keen,  was  quickly  surfeited. 
Next  day  when  seven  more  were  executed  Elisabeth 
forbade  all  prolongation  of  suffering. 

There  remained  Curie  and  Nau  and  a  third  under- 
secretary, Pasquier,  who  had  joined  them.  They 
were  imprisoned  in  Walsingham's  household,  and 
between  threats  of  torture  and  promises  of  life  and 
liberty,  their  minds  were  so  enervated  that  as  early  as 
September  3rd,  Walsingham  wrote  of  them,   "  Both 


288  MARY  STUART 

Curie  and  Nau  are  determined  to  throw  the  burden 
on  their  mistress." 

No  minute  of  Mary's  letter  to  Babington  either 
French  or  English  could  be  found  at  Chartley  to 
Walsingham's  great  annoyance,  "  I  would  to  God 
these  minutes  were  found,"  he  wrote.  It  was  the 
weak  link  in  his  chain  of  evidence.  All  that  was 
found  were  certain  notes  in  Nau's  writing  in  which  he 
referred  to  "un  coup  "  which  might  be  taken  to  mean 
the  attempt  on  Elisabeth.  Step  by  step  and  with 
many  shufflings,  both  Secretaries  were  brought  to 
attest  that  the  deciphers  of  the  Babington  letter  and 
of  Mary's  fatal  reply  were  "  the  same  or  similar  to 
what  they  had  written  and  ciphered."  To  remove  all 
blame  from  themselves  they  had  been  careful  to 
explain  that  all  letters  were  dictated  by  Mary  and 
were  again  revised  by  her  after  they  had  been  written 
and  translated. 

One  more  act  of  petty  tyranny  Mary  had  to 
endure  before  she  was  removed  from  Chartley. 
She  was  sick  in  bed,  when  one  morning  Sir 
Amyas  appeared  accompanied  by  a  strange  gentle- 
man, and  turning  all  her  attendants  out  of  the  room, 
said  that  he  had  received  orders  to  remove  all  her 
money  lest  she  should  attempt  to  corrupt  his  servants. 
In  vain  she  refused  to  yield  the  keys  of  her  cabinet, 
her  impassive  jailor  called  for  bars  to  prise  the  doors 
open.  To  stay  further  extremities,  the  unfortunate 
lady  slipped  out  of  bed,  opened  her  cabinet  and  handed 
over  a  canvas  bag  where  she  kept  a  little  hoard  to 
provide  for  her  servants  against  the  day  of  her 
death. 

Considerable  sums  were  found  in  the  private  room 
of  Secretary  Nau.     Many  knew  his  epicurean  nature 


THE  BABINGTON  CONSPIRACY      289 

when  she  wrote  bitterly  of  him  and  Pasquier.  "  lis 
sont  gens  qui  veulent  vivre  en  tous  mondes  s'ils 
peuvent  avoir  leurs  commodites." 

On   September  the   25th,   Mary  was  removed  to 
Fotheringay. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

FOTHERINGAY 
nth  October  1586 — 4th  February  1587 

AT  every  turn  Mary  was  to  be  a  perplexity  to  her 
enemies  and  not  least  in  their  moment  of 
triumph.  "  I  see  this  wicked  creature  ordained  of 
God  to  punish  our  sins  and  unthankfulness,  for  her 
Majesty  hath  no  power  to  proceed  against  her  as  her 
own  safety  requireth,"  wrote  Walsingham  with  pious 
irritation. 

Elisabeth's  private  message  to  Mary  urging  her 
to  acknowledge  her  guilt  and  throw  herself  on  her 
cousin's  mercy  had  been  met,  on  Mary's  part,  with  a 
contemptuous  refusal  to  prejudice  her  case.  Even  if 
she  had  had  any  faith  in  the  practical  advantages  of 
such  a  course,  she  was  in  no  mood  to  humble  herself. 
Life  in  a  prison,  straiter  and  more  humiliating  than 
any  she  had  yet  known,  might  indeed  chill  her  soul, 
but  on  the  other  hand  her  imagination  had  accustomed 
itself  to  dwell  nobly  and  with  a  certain  exultation  on 
the  thought  of  death,  death  in  the  sight  of  Europe, 
death  for  the  cause  of  God  and  the  Church,  death  that 
would  forever  put  her  enemies  in  the  wrong. 

It  was  in  this  tense  mood  of  defiance  that  she  met 
the  Commission  sent  down  to  Fotheringay  to  try  her 
cause.  Forty  lords  and  gentlemen,  the  greatest  men 
in  the  kingdom,  attended  by  some  2000  armed 
horsemen — for  the  times  were  dangerous — arrived  at 

290 


FOTHERINGAY  291 

Fotheringay  on  Saturday  1 1  th  October.  That  evening 
a  copy  of  the  Commission  was  delivered  to  Mary. 
She  scanned  the  list  eagerly,  seeking  in  vain  for  one 
friendly  or  impartial  name. 

The  Commission  was  composed  of  the  earls  and 
barons  of  the  Privy  Council,  of  six  judges,  and  two 
doctors  of  Civil  Law ;  forty-two  in  all,  the  finest  wits, 
the  most  experienced  heads,  the  most  honourable 
names  in  England.  Among  the  noblemen  were 
various  whose  correspondence  with  Mary  had  been 
discovered  at  Chartley.  Elisabeth  had  generously 
burnt  their  letters,  but  their  uncertainty  of  their  own 
position  effectually  precluded  their  showing  any  kind- 
ness to  Mary.  Walsingham,  Crofts,  Bromley  and 
Burghley  were  open  enemies ;  the  fact  that  Leicester 
and  Hatton  had  had  secret  dealings  with  Mary  made 
them  but  the  more  dangerous.  Old  Sir  Ralph  Sadler 
was  on  the  Commission  to  judge  the  woman  he  had 
seen  as  a  baby ;  more  soft-hearted,  Lord  Shrews- 
bury had  urged  illness  as  a  reason  for  staying  away. 

Mary  had  always  had  the  quickest  instinct  for 
spying  out  a  weak  point.  She  noticed  that  the 
statute  under  which  she  was  to  be  tried  was  that 
brand-new  Bond  of  Association  framed  purposely 
against  her  barely  two  years  before.  This  statute 
gave  power  to  prosecute  and  condemn  to  death  any 
one  laying  claim  to  the  English  crown  or  trying  to 
deprive  Elisabeth  of  the  same  by  way  of  conspiracy 
or  foreign  invasion.  Mary  had  not  only  forced  the 
English  government  to  frame  laws  especially  against 
her ;  before  they  could  obtain  a  verdict  they  had  to 
nullify  the  ordinary  procedure  of  justice. 

Elisabeth  had  a  fatal  habit  of  putting  herself 
in  the  wrong  by  small  meannesses  and  discourtesies ; 


292 


MARY  STUART 


the  letter  delivered  to  Mary,  peremptorily  ordering 
her  to  submit  herself  to  the  judgment  of  the  Com- 
mission, was  addressed  baldly  "  To  the  Scottish." 

Mary  met  the  command  by  a  flat  refusal.  As  a 
queen,  she  could  not  allow  herself  to  be  judged  by 
subjects  without  betraying  the  prerogative  of  her  son, 
of  her  descendants,  of  all  princes  everywhere.  She 
would  not  acknowledge  herself  subject  to  the  laws  of 
a  country  where  she  had  been  kept  in  prison  in 
defiance  of  law.  Finally,  she  would  not  plead  in  a 
court  where  she  was  deprived  of  an  advocate,  of  her 
papers,  even  of  time  to  prepare  her  own  case. 

Her  refusal  was  taken  down,  submitted  to  her 
and  forwarded  to  Elisabeth. 

All  the  next  day  (a  Sunday)  was  spent  in  receiving 
formal  deputations  from  the  Commissioners  and 
arguing  from  point  to  point  ;  one  quick  witted  woman 
keeping  at  bay  forty  trained  and  experienced  men, 
men  who,  moreover,  knew  her  to  be  guilty  of  the 
charge  brought  against  her. 

Again  she  urged  her  immunity  as  a  queen,  and 
declared  that  as  a  stranger  she  was  not  subject  to 
laws  that  had  afforded  her  no  protection.  She 
sharply  criticised  their  new  law  which  offered  no 
precedent  by  which  she  could  guide  herself;  she 
demanded  to  be  judged  by  true  Civil  Law,  with  con- 
sultation of  foreign  jurisconsults  or  to  be  heard  before 
a  free  Parliament.  At  other  times,  breaking  out  into 
eloquent  speech,  she  made  bitter  reflections  on  Elisa- 
beth's claim  of  having  afforded  her  protection,  warned 
her  judges  that  the  theatre  of  the  world  was  wider 
than  England  or,  taking  refuge  in  her  last  strong- 
hold, expressed  her  willingness  to  shed  her  blood  in 
the  cause  of  her  religion. 


FOTHERINGAY  293 

The  October  dusk  was  falling  and  Burghley's 
patience  was  wearing  out  when  that  child  of  the 
world,  Christopher  Hatton,  brought  an  argument  to 
bear  that  made  Mary  pause.  The  Queen  of  England, 
he  assured  her,  was  only  too  anxious  that  she 
should  establish  her  innocence.  If  she  refused  to  be 
questioned  by  the  Commission  she  would  give  the 
world  cause  to  believe  her  guilty,  her  honour  would 
suffer  nothing  by  her  submission.  Burghley  added 
the  practical  argument  that  in  her  absence,  as  in  her 
presence,  the  Commission  would  proceed  with  the 
case. 

Late  that  evening  a  courier  arrived  post-haste 
from  Elisabeth.  The  letter  to  Mary  was  no  less 
peremptory  than  the  former  had  been,  but  the  final 
sentence  held  out  a  gleam  of  hope.  "  But  answer  fully 
and  you  will  receive  the  greater  favour  from  us." 

During  the  wakeful  hours  of  the  night,  Mary 
came  to  a  decision.  Elisabeth's  message  may  have 
had  something  to  do  with  it,  for  an  instinctive  clinging 
to  life  underlies  our  most  heroic  resolutions.  Hatton's 
words  weighed  more,  for,  above  all  things,  Mary 
desired  to  convince  the  world  that,  if  she  were  con- 
demned, it  was  for  no  crime  of  her  own,  but  on 
account  of  her  religion  and  her  nearness  to  the 
throne.  Stronger  than  all  reasoning  was  the  passion- 
ate desire  to  speak  her  heart  out  in  ears  that,  at  last, 
must  give  her  a  hearing. 

She  knew  the  effect  of  her  eloquent  tongue,  of 
her  noble  presence,  the  pathos  of  her  circumstances. 
We  need  not  look  to  Mary  for  the  simplicity  and 
sincerity  of  the  martyr.  There  was  much  in  her  life 
to  forget,  much  to  conceal ;  if  much  had  been  repented 
of,  that  repentance  was  kept  sacred  between  her  own 


294  MARY  STUART 

soul  and  her  Maker,  but  against  the  outer  world  she 
had  an  unassailable  defence  in  her  sense  of  the 
immeasurable  wrongs  that  had  been  done  her. 

Again  and  again  she  had  formulated  her  grievance 
in  letters  that  had  been  neglected.  Here  at  last, 
whatever  came  of  it,  she  could  lift  up  her  voice  and 
cry  aloud  and  spare  not.  She  was  a  woman  to 
whom  it  was  a  first  necessity  to  play  a  part  in  the 
world's  eye  ;  we  may  be  grateful  to  her  that  it  was 
generally  a  magnanimous  and  always  a  dignified  one. 
Her  speeches,  both  at  the  trial  and  later  to  those 
who  came  to  announce  her  sentence  to  her,  read  like 
speeches  that  a  passionate  heart  and  active  brain  would 
fashion  in  solitude  and  rehearse  again  and  again  with 
new  point  and  circumstance  to  imaginary  audiences. 
They  were  too  complete  in  themselves,  too  little 
drawn  from  immediate  circumstance  to  have  the 
calculated  effect  on  an  audience  hardened  to  resist 
them.  Her  auditors  were  intent  on  bringing  home 
to  Mary  her  guilt  on  a  particular  point,  she  was 
intent  on  vindicating  her  whole  course  of  life  and 
bringing  counter  arraignment. 

On  the  morning  of  Tuesday,  14th  October,  the 
Commission  was  assembled  in  a  larger  upper  room 
directly  above  the  hall.  A  dais,  with  a  cloth  of  state, 
was  dressed  at  the  upper  end  to  represent  the  presence 
of  Elisabeth,  a  chair  of  red  velvet  with  a  footstool 
was  placed  at  one  side  for  the  Scottish  Queen.  She 
entered  in  her  black  robes  and  flowing  lawn  veil, 
supported  on  either  side  by  Bourgoign  and  the  good 
Andrew  Melville. 

Glancing  at  the  dais,  she  cried  impulsively,  "  I 
am  a  Queen  by  right  of  birth,  my  place  should  be 
there." 


■  •"»-■.."*.■■■  ■■?■'■"  t*- ■  : 


Si  y 


-  77:  • 


THE    TRIAL  AT   FOTHERINGAY 


FOTHER1NGAY  295 

The  Commissioners  uncovered  as  she  entered. 
Looking  from  one  grave  face  to  the  other,  a  sudden 
anguish  of  solitariness  swept  over  her,  and  she  said 
to  Melville,  "  Alas !  there  is  a  great  number  of 
councillors  here  and  yet  not  one  of  them  is  for  me." 

But  the  reading  of  the  indictment  restored  her 
courage  and  roused  the  fighting  instinct.  She  re- 
peated her  protest  that  as  a  queen  she  could  be 
subject  to  no  tribunal  but  that  of  God,  that  she  had 
consented  to  come  thither  to  answer  to  one  specific 
charge.  She  met  the  production  of  the  copies  of  the 
Babington  and  other  letters,  with  a  flat  repudiation, 
and  the  pertinent  demand  that  the  original  letters  and 
not  copies  should  be  brought  as  evidence.  When  the 
point  came  up  again  (as  it  did  more  than  once  in  the 
interminable  and  disorderly  proceedings)  she  carried 
the  war  into  the  enemy's  camp  by  a  sudden  attack  on 
Walsingham.  He  was  her  enemy  and  the  enemy 
of  her  son  ;  how  could  she  be  certain  that  he  had  not 
forged  her  cipher  to  procure  her  condemnation,  she 
knew  that  he  had  had  traffickings  with  one  Ballard 
whom  she  knew  to  be  a  traitor.  It  was  a  home-thrust, 
and  Walsingham  was  curiously  agitated  for  a  man 
blameless  in  the  matter.  He  rose  to  vindicate  him- 
self, "God  is  my  witness  that  as  a  private  person,  I 
have  done  nothing  unworthy  of  an  honest  man,  and 
as  Secretary  of  State  nothing  unbefitting  my  duty." 
A  sentence  open  to  casuistical  interpretation  ! 

When  confronted  with  the  fact  that  Babington  had 
acknowledged  the  genuineness  of  the  correspondence 
and  that  Nau  and  Curie,  her  secretaries,  had  also 
confirmed  this,  she  asked  why  Babington  had  been 
put  to  death  before  he  had  been  brought  face  to  face 
with    her   or   why,  her  secretaries    being  still     alive, 


296  MARY  STUART 

they  were  not  produced  in  her  presence  as  witnesses 
against  her. 

There  was  no  arrangement  in  the  proceedings,  no 
cross-examination,  matters  old  and  irrelevant,  such  as 
Mary's  adoption  of  the  English  arms  in  her  early 
French  days,  were  again  dragged  forth.  At  the  end, 
disorder  supervened,  questions  were  no  longer  asked. 
Mary  was  attacked  by  assertions  and  accusations, 
especially  on  the  part  of  the  legal  members  of  the 
Commission.  This  mismanagement  Mary,  with  her 
usual  cleverness,  turned  to  her  own  advantage.  Next 
morning  she  protested  haughtily  that  she  had  expected 
to  be  examined  by  noblemen  and  gentlemen  who  knew 
what  was  due  to  princes,  and  not  by  lawyers  accus- 
tomed to  the  pettifogging  and  brow-beating  of  courts 
of  law.  Without  an  advocate  to  defend  her,  what 
could  one  woman  do  against  so  many  united  in  accus- 
ing her  ?  Thenceforward  Burghley  kept  the  question- 
ing in  his  own  hands. 

On  this  day  Mary  made  large  admissions.  She 
acknowledged  the  letters  to  Mendoza,  Paget  and 
Morgan,  which  were  produced,  to  be  hers,  and  admitted 
that  her  secretaries  had  held  communication  with 
Babington.  She  admitted  also  that,  for  her  own  liberty 
and  the  comfort  of  oppressed  and  persecuted  Catholics, 
she  had  solicited  aid  from  foreign  princes.  Where 
she  stood  absolutely  firm  was  in  her  denial  of  any 
knowledge  of  the  attempt  on  the  life  of  Elisabeth. 

More  than  once  in  the  course  of  these  proceedings 
Mary  had  broken  into  vehement  speech.  The  atmos- 
phere was  charged  with  hostility.  She  understood 
men  too  well  to  hope  to  move  their  pity.  It  was  as 
a  relief  to  her  own  indignant  pain  that  she  spoke,  now 
rehearsing  the  sufferings  of  her  fellow  Catholics,  now 


FOTHERINGAY  297 

declaiming  bitterly  against  the  monstrous  illegality 
of  her  trial,  now  protesting  her  faith  in  God  and 
willingness  to  shed  her  blood  in  His  cause,  and  again 
and  again  returning  to  the  burthen  of  her  heavy 
wrongs.  Once  she  took  a  ring  from  her  finger  and 
held  it  up.  "  Here,  my  Lords,  is  the  pledge  of  love 
and  protection  which  I  received  from  your  Mistress. 
Look  well  at  it.  It  was  in  reliance  upon  this  that 
I  came  amongst  you.  Nobody  knows  better  than 
yourselves  how  this  pledge  has  been  kept." 

It  was  well  for  Mary  that  she  was  appealing  to 
"a  wider  theatre  than  England,"  and  to  times  more 
just  and  pitiful  than  her  own.  Burghley  sneers 
impatiently  at  "  the  Queen  of  the  Castle "  and  her 
"long  and  artificial  speeches,"  and  adds,  "I  am  sure 
that  the  audience  did  not  think  her  worthy  of  much 
pity,"  he  himself,  as  he  affirms,  having  refuted  her 
allegations  on  all  points. 

The  Commission  would  have  given  their  verdict 
that  night,  but  an  urgent  message  from  Elisabeth 
forbade  any  decisive  action  and  bade  them  adjourn 
for  ten  days.  On  Wednesday  (15th  October)  the 
Commissioners  left  Fotheringay. 

A  unanimous  verdict  of  the  Commission,  an  Act 
of  Parliament,  the  earnest  petition  of  both  Lords  and 
Commons,  were  alike  powerless  to  bring  Elisabeth 
to  the  point  of  condemning  her  cousin  to  death.  She 
had  no  real  intention  of  sparing  Mary's  life  but  she 
had  an  unreasoning  desire  to  escape  the  responsibility 
for  such  a  decision.  On  November  20,  she  sent 
Lord  Buckhurst  and  Secretary  Beale  to  Fotheringay 
to  inform  the  Queen  of  Scots  of  the  verdict  against 
her,  and  warning  her  to  prepare  for  death. 

In  her  last  letter  to  her  faithful  old  servant  the 


298  MARY  STUART 

Archbishop  of  Glasgow,  Mary  herself  describes  the 
interview.  She  was  to  be  put  to  death  they  told  her, 
first  because  the  Queen's  life  and  crown  were  not  safe 
so  long  as  she  was  alive,  and  secondly  because  her 
life  was  a  constant  menace  to  the  established  religion. 
This  was  precisely  the  acknowledgment  of  her 
importance  which  Mary  most  desired.  She  thanked 
God  and  them  for  the  honour  vouchsafed  to  her  of 
shedding  her  blood  in  the  Church's  quarrel.  With 
Enoflish  bluntness  Lord  Buckhurst  hastened  to  assure 
her  that  she  was  no  saint  and  martyr  but  was  to  be 
put  to  death  for  plotting  against  the  Queen's  life.  She 
denied  the  accusation  and  affirmed  that,  sinner  though 
she  might  be,  God  in  His  mercy  would  accept  the 
sacrifice  of  her  life  which  she  was  ready  to  lay  down 
for  the  good  of  the  Church.  The  ministrations  of  the 
Dean  of  Peterborough  or  any  other  Protestant  divine, 
she  quietly  declined,  and  begged  that  the  services  of 
her  own  priest  might  be  restored  to  her. 

Her  calm  cheerfulness  with  its  touch  of  triumph 
discomposed  Sir  Amyas  Paulet.  It  upset  his  pre- 
conceived notions  that  she  neither  humbled  herself 
to  entreat  for  mercy  nor  felt  the  terrors  of  a  guilty 
conscience.  It  was  his  duty  to  convince  her  of  her 
lost  condition  both  in  this  world  and  the  next. 

Her  cloth  of  state  had  accompanied  her  in  all  her 
prisons.  It  had  been  her  mother's  and  bore  the  arms 
of  Scotland  quartered  with  those  of  Lorraine.  On 
the  day  Lord  Buckhurst  left,  the  21st  November, 
Paulet  entered  Mary's  room  unceremoniously,  told 
her  that  she  was  now  but  a  dead  woman  in  the  eyes 
of  the  law,  having  no  claim  to  the  honour  and  dignity 
of  a  queen  and  so  ordered  her  cloth  of  state  to  be 
pulled    down.       Mary    replied    that    being    born    an 


SIR  AMYAS   PAULET 


FOTHERINGAY  299 

anointed  queen,  she  held  her  royal  estate  from  God 
alone  and  would  only  render  it  back  into  His  hands 
with  her  life. 

The  next  day  when  Paulet  entered  her  room,  he 
found  that  in  the  place  where  her  royal  emblazonments 
had  hung,  she  had  placed  ten  pictures  of  the  Passion 
of  her  Saviour.  This  act  to  Mary  was  symbolical  of 
the  attitude  of  her  mind.  Paulet  only  saw  "  ten  paper 
pictures  of  the  Passion  of  Christ  and  other  like  stuff 
fastened  upon  the  hangings." 

To  bring  her  to  a  sense  of  her  position  he  remained 
covered  in  her  presence  and  had  her  billiard  table 
removed,  amusement  being  unsuitable  for  a  woman 
under  sentence  of  death.  But  he  had  lost  all  power 
to  wound  or  irritate  his  victim. 

She  had  striven  hard  for  liberty,  she  had  fought 
and  plotted  and  struggled  for  that  larger  share  in  the 
world's  life  to  which  she  was  entitled  alike  by  birth 
and  natural  endowment.  Up  to  the  last  she  had 
been  prepared  to  grasp  at  any  chance  that  offered. 
But  now  that  every  effort  was  frustrated  and  hope  was 
dead,  she  turned  her  undiminished  vitality  on  to  her 
last  great  task  of  dying. 

There  are  four  or  five  letters  of  Mary's  written 
within  two  days  of  Lord  Buckhurst's  visit,  the  noblest 
and  simplest  of  all  her  correspondence.  No  secretary 
had  expanded  and  weakened  the  terse  clearness  of 
the  writing,  no  malice  embittered  its  spirit. 

In  writing  to  Elisabeth,  she  blesses  God  for  the 
end  set  at  last  to  the  weary  pilgrimage  of  her  life. 
The  requests  she  has  to  make  are  these  :  seeing  no 
hope  in  England  of  Sepulture  with  Catholic  rites  she 
begs  that  her  servants  may  have  permission  to  carry 
her  body  to  France  to  bury  it  beside  "  my  honoured 


300  MARY  STUART 

mother,"  "so  that  this  poor  body  of  mine  may  find  at 
last  that  rest  that  it  never  found,  as  long  as  it  was 
joined  to  my  soul." 

She  had  been  studying  the  English  Chronicles  and 
was  haunted  by  the  fates  of  Edward  II.  and  Richard 
II. ;  so  she  begs  in  the  second  place  that  she  may  be 
put  to  death  publicly,  so  that  her  servants  and  others 
may  bear  witness  to  her  dying  declaration  of  faith. 

Her  last  request  is  for  her  servants  that  they  may 
have  permission  to  return  home,  with  security  "for 
such  small  wealth  as  my  poverty  allows  me  to  bestow 
on  them." 

Scotland,  with  its  short  years  of  youth  and  passion, 
fear  and  sin,  had  long  been  remote  and  dim  ;  now 
England,  with  its  barren  hopes  and  futile  struggles, 
was  falling  away  from  her  like  a  dream  when  one 
awakens,  but  France  and  the  old  times  of  her  girlhood, 
seem  to  have  been  vividly  present  to  Mary's  recollec- 
tion. She  thought  of  herself,  no  longer  as  a  Stuart 
nor  as  a  descendant  of  Henry  VII.,  she  had  gone 
back  in  spirit  to  the  old  Guise  kinship.  She  wrote  to 
take  farewell  of  her  cousin  and  assured  him  that  her 
constancy  would  be  "  worthy  of  our  house." 

She  and  Mendoza  had  never  met  in  the  flesh  but 
each  had  recognised  in  the  other  a  kindred  spirit ; 
their  diplomatic  relations  had  ripened  into  personal 
intimacy  and  regard.  Of  him,  too,  she  took  farewell 
and  sent  him  the  diamond  with  which  Norfolk  had 
pledged  his  faith  to  her  and  which  she  had  always 
worn.  To  the  Pope  she  sent  a  solemn  avowal  of  her 
adherence  to  the  Catholic  faith. 

While  Mary  was  thus  preparing  herself  for  the 
death  that  might  at  any  moment  free  her  from  the 
"rack  of  this  tough  world,''   her  allies  and  kinsfolk 


FOTHERINGAY  301 

were  trying  to  secure  for  her  some  such  death  in  life 
as  would  render  her  innocuous  and  save  their  credit. 
The  King  of  France  and  his  mother  had  little  enough 
concern  for  Mary,  but  her  life  was  useful  to  them  in 
their  dealings  with  Elisabeth,  besides  the  national 
honour  was  galled  that  a  former  Queen  of  France 
should  fall  by  the  hands  of  an  executioner. 

In  December  a  special  envoy,  M.  Bellievre,  arrived 
to  plead  for  Mary.  His  long  and  quaintly  pedantic 
discourse  has  yet  a  sort  of  genuine  ring  about  it.  But 
foreign  opposition  only  served  more  effectually  than 
the  urgency  of  her  ministers  to  hasten  Elisabeth's 
mind  towards  a  sterner  decision. 

From  Mary's  own  son,  the  Scottish  king,  it  had 
seemed  at  first  that  little  opposition  was  to  be  feared. 
There  are  sentences  in  a  letter  of  September  written 
by  the  Master  of  Gray  to  the  Scottish  ambassador, 
Archibald  Douglas,  which  read  like  satire  but  are 
simple  statements  of  fact.  "His  Majesty  is  very 
well  content  with  all  your  proceedings  but  chiefly 
touching  his  bucks  and  hunting-horses,  I  pray  you 
negotiate  so  well  that  you  fail  not  to  effectuate 
substantially  that  point.  As  for  his  mother  ...  I  can 
assure  you  he  is  content  that  the  law  go  forward — her 
life  being  safe — and  would  gladly  wish  that  all  foreign 
princes  should  know  how  evil  she  hath  used  herself  to 
the  Queen's  Majesty." 

At  various  points  of  the  proceedings  against  his 
mother  assurances  were  sent  to  James  that  his  title  to 
the  succession  should  not  be  invalidated.  Left  to 
himself  he  would  have  been  contented  with  the 
negative  course  of  not  taking  part  against  his  mother. 
To  do  so,  even  Walsingham  admitted,  would  be 
against  bonos  mores. 


302  MARY  STUART 

His  ruling  favourite  the  Master  of  Gray  is  said  to 
have  summed  up  his  advice  to  Elisabeth  in  the  Latin 
he  so  often  affected.  "  Mortua  non  mordet."  But  public 
opinion  was  too  strong  for  both  king  and  favourite. 
D'Esneval  the  French  Ambassador  extraordinary  told 
James  that  if  he  allowed  his  mother  to  be  tried  he  would 
be  disgraced  throughout  Christendom ;  the  Scottish 
noblemen,  even  those  who  opposed  Mary,  felt  them- 
selves pricked  in  their  national  honour ;  the  common 
people  hooted  James  in  the  High  Street.  Most  frank 
of  all,  James'  cousin,  Francis,  Lord  Bothwell,  told  him 
that  if  he  let  his  mother  suffer  he  would  deserve  to  be 
hanged.  This  Francis  was  the  son  of  Mary's  half- 
brother,  Lord  John  of  Coldingham,  whose  marriage 
with  Bothwell's  sister  was  among  the  festivities  which 
graced  Mary's  return  to  Scotland  in  1561.  Either 
from  love  of  her  brother  who  died  early  or  from 
sentiment  for  Bothwell  Mary  had  always  taken  a 
special  interest  in  young  Francis,  looking  after  his 
concerns  even  in  her  captivity.  Gratitude  in  the 
story  of  Mary  has  been  a  flower  of  such  rare  growth 
that  it  feels  like  a  touch  of  wholesome  mother  earth  to 
meet  this  young  nobleman  "  who  was  prompt  and  free 
of  speech  and  affectionate  to  the  Queen  of  Scots  and 
such  an  one  as  would  not,  if  he  discovered  treachery, 
conceal  it." 

A  man  of  this  character  would  be  no  welcome 
colleague  to  the  Master  of  Gray,  accordingly  he  was 
rejected  as  a  possible  ambassador,  and  Mary's  old 
friend  Sir  Robert  Melville  was  associated  with  the 
Master  in  a  special  embassy  to  Elisabeth. 

In  his  usual  forcible  diction  the  Master  describes 
his  perplexity  at  having  this  embassy  forced  on  him. 
He  must  either  "  crab  "  his  master  by  refusing  to  go, 


FOTHERINGAY  303 

or  offend  the  English  queen  by  the  message  he 
brought.  If  in  spite  of  his  mission  the  Queen  die 
"men  will  think  I  lent  her  a  hand,  and  live  she  by 
my  travail  I  bring  a  staff  on  my  own  head." 

In  the  end,  however,  two  national  instincts  were  too 
strong  in  him,  the  instinct  to  resent  any  action  of  the 
"auld  enemy,"  and  the  instinct  to  let  no  one  but  them- 
selves bully  their  "  ancient  kings." 

"  If  I  take  it  in  hand,  I  must  do  the  duty  of  a  good 
subject.  I  must  be  a  Scotsman,  and  lean  to  Scottish 
means."  And,  to  do  him  justice,  this  part  he 
resolutely  played. 

Still  Elisabeth  was  not  mistaken  in  feeling  that 
James'  protest  was  more  formal  than  formidable,  and 
that  "with  time  he  might  be  moved  to  digest  the  matter." 

All  through  January  Elisabeth  had  seemed  as  far 
as  ever  from  decided  action.  Suddenly  on  ist 
February,  from  mere  weariness  of  the  matter,  she 
sent  for  her  secretary,  Davison,  and  bade  him  bring 
the  warrant.  She  signed  it  along  with  other  papers 
with  seeming  carelessness,  made  a  jesting  allusion  to 
Walsingham's  satisfaction  at  the  fact,  and  bade 
Davison  take  it  to  the  Lord  Chancellor.  She  desired 
to  hear  no  more  about  the  matter  till  all  was  over.  But 
as  Davison  was  leaving  the  room  she  called  him  back. 

Twice  in  Mary's  life,  as  we  have  seen,  she  was 
confronted  with  her  own  letters,  words  written  in 
secret  proclaimed  on  the  house-tops,  plans  conceived 
in  darkness  judged  in  the  fiercest  light.  Let  these 
letters  be  weighed  in  the  scale  of  moral  judgment 
against  the  letter  which  Elisabeth — living  at  ease  and 
in  freedom — now  dictated  to  Davison  and  Walsineham 
two  "honourable  men"  for  Amyas  Paulet  and  his 
colleague,  Sir  Drue  Drury.     "...   Her  Majesty  doth 


304  MARY  STUART 

note  in  you  both  a  lack  of  that  care  and  zeal  of  her 
service,  that  she  looketh  for  at  your  hands  in  that  you 
have  not,  in  all  this  time,  of  yourselves  (without  other 
provocation)  found  out  some  way  to  shorten  the  life 
of  that  queen.  .  .  .  Wherein  besides  a  kind  of  lack  of 
love  towards  her,  she  noteth  greatly  that  you  have 
not  that  care  of  your  own  particular  safeties  or  rather 
of  the  preservation  of  religion  and  the  public  good 
.  .  .  especially  having  so  good  a  warrant  of  your 
consciences  towards  God  and  your  credit  towards  the 
world  as  the  Oath  of  Association  .  .  .  and  therefore 
she  taketh  it  most  unkindly  that  men  professing  love 
towards  her  should,  for  lack  of  the  discharge  of  your 
duties,  cast  the  burden  upon  her,  knowing  as  you  do, 
her  indisposition  to  shed  blood." 

This  letter  written  on  ist  February  was  received 
on  February  2nd  at  five  p.m.  By  six  p.m.  the 
recipients  had  written  and  despatched  their  reply. 
It  is  due  to  Sir  Amyas  to  give  his  own  words,  con- 
fused, incoherent,  but  hot  with  indignation  and  heavy 
with  horror.  "  I  would  not  fail  to  return  my  answer 
with  all  possible  speed  which  shall  deliver  unto  you 
with  great  grief  and  bitterness  of  mind  in  that  I  am 
so  unhappy  as  to  have  lived  to  see  this  unhappy  day, 
in  the  which  I  am  required  by  direction  from  my 
most  gracious  sovereign  to  do  an  act  which  God  and 
the  law  forbiddeth.  .  .  .  God  forbid  that  I  should 
make  so  foul  a  shipwreck  of  my  conscience,  or  leave 
so  great  a  blot  to  my  poor  posterity  and  shed  blood 
without  law  or  warrant." 

Perhaps  now  it  flashed  through  Paulet's  mind  what 
Mary  had  said  a  few  days  earlier,  rising  from  the 
study  of  the  Chronicles  of  England.  "  Your  history 
is  full  of  blood." 


FOTHERINGAY  305 

When  signing  the  warrant  Elisabeth  had  desired 
to  hear  no  more  of  the  matter  till  all  was  over.  Her 
Council,  knowing  her  infirmity  of  purpose,  took  her  at 
her  word.  Lord  Kent  and  Lord  Shrewsbury  were 
appointed  Commissioners  to  see  the  warrant  executed. 
On  Saturday,  4th  February,  Secretary  Beale  carried 
the  warrant  down  to  Fotheringay.  On  Monday 
evening  the  Earl  of  Kent  arrived,  and  Shrewsbury 
on  Tuesday  about  noon.  Walsingham  had  sent  down 
the  executioner  on  Sunday  night  by  a  trusty  servant ; 
he  was  kept  secretly  at  an  inn  at  Fotheringay  till  the 
day  was  settled  for  the  execution. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE    END 
February  8th,  1587 

AS  the  weeks  went  by  with  no  sign  of  impending  doom, 
Mary  had  resumed  her  ordinary  life  with  appar- 
ent calm.  Reading  and  devotions  occupied  her  days  : 
her  health  and  diet  received  the  attention  she  always 
bestowed  on  them  in  the  winter.  If  the  arrival  of  the 
two  earls  was  a  shock  to  her,  she  braced  herself  up  to 
meet  them  with  composure.  She  had  been  ill  and 
received  them  sitting  on  a  couch  at  the  foot  of  her 
bed.  After  respectful  greetings  the  Commissioners 
proceeded  at  once  to  read  the  sentence.  "  She  seemed 
not  to  be  in  any  terror  from  ought  that  appeared  by 
any  of  her  outward  gestures  or  behaviour  but  rather 
with  smiling  cheer  and  pleasing  countenance,  digested 
and  accepted  the  said  admonition  of  preparation  to  her 
(as  she  said)  unexpected  execution."  She  said  in  a 
brave  voice  "  that  that  soul  was  unworthy  of  the  joys 
of  Heaven  forever  whose  body  would  not  in  this 
world  be  content  to  endure  the  stroke  of  the  exe- 
cutioner for  a  moment."  Here  she  paused  and, 
nature  having  her  way,  "  she  wept  bitterly  and  re- 
mained silent." 

A  few  weeks  previously  she  had  been  again  de- 
prived of  her  confessor.  She  begged  now  for  his 
services  to  prepare  her  for  death.  It  is  difficult  to 
believe  that   Elisabeth,   notoriously  indifferent  in  the 

306 


THE  END  307 

matter  of  creeds,  should  have  commanded  this  last 
wanton  unkindness.  It  is  quite  conceivable  that 
blundering  Protestants  like  Kent  and  Paulet  may 
have  honestly  thought  that  the  terror  of  death  might 
shake  Mary's  lifelong  convictions,  and  drive  her  at  the 
last  moment  to  "  the  only  stronghold  of  God's  word." 

They  urged  on  her  the  ministrations  of  the  Dean 
of  Peterborough,  who  could  show  her  the  truth  and 
"  convince  her  of  the  folly  and  abomination  of  Popery." 
With  vehemence  she  refused  the  offer.  Nor  could  they 
give  her  the  consoling  assurance  that  her  wearied  body 
should  rest  in  the  kindly  earth  of  France.  They  be- 
lieved that  arrangements  would  be  made  for  restoring 
her  servants  to  their  homes.  They  granted  her  only 
one  night  to  settle  all  her  business  and  make  provision 
for  her  dependents.  Her  papers  and  accounts  they 
were  unable  to  restore.  There  is  a  flash  of  the  old 
unregenerate  Mary  in  her  question  if  Nau  were  dead, 
and  her  remark  that  he  had  caused  her  death  to  save 
himself. 

They  left  her,  warning  her  that  she  should  be  sent 
for  next  morning  at  eight.  Practical  always,  Mary's 
first  business  was  to  take  care  of  the  nerves  and 
emotions  of  her  household,  her  "little  flock."  She 
bade  them  hasten  supper  for  she  had  much  to  do.  She 
ate,  as  usual,  abstemiously  but  spoke  cheerfully  to  her 
physician,  and  before  rising  pledged  her  little  com- 
pany. She  had  meant  to  go  down  into  her  wardrobe, 
but  they  told  her  that  the  soldiers  were  on  guard  in 
the  passage  and  she  refrained. 

Having  laid  aside  the  robe  and  petticoat  and 
wimple,  which  were  for  the  last  time  to  express  her 
queenly  state,  she  sat  with  an  inventory  dividing  her 
clothes  and  jewels  and  valuables  among  her  servants. 


308  MARY  STUART 

Her   money   she   divided    into    little   bags    with   the 
owner's  name  written  on  each. 

She  was  an  excellent  woman  of  business  and 
anxiously  exact  in  matters  of  debt.  Without  advisers, 
papers  or  account  book,  she  drew  up  her  will.  Even 
Curie  is  remembered,  the  money  promised  on  his 
marriage  is  to  be  secured  to  him ;  his  pension  and  even 
that  of  Nau  are  to  be  paid  if  they  are  proved  innocent ; 
under  any  circumstances  Curie's  wife  is  to  be  re- 
membered. Her  last  letter  was  to  the  King-  of  France. 
Shortly,  clearly  and  calmly,  she  describes  her  situation 
cut  off  from  help  and  religious  consolation,  but  glad  and 
willing  to  die  for  her  faith.  Earnestly  and  with  feel- 
ing she  commends  her  servants  to  him.  Her  chaplain 
— a  young  and  simple  man — was  shut  up  in  another 
part  of  the  Castle.  She  wrote  and  asked  him  to  spend 
the  night  in  prayer  for  her.  She  hoped  to  see  him  in 
the  morning  to  receive  his  benediction  and  absolution. 

By  this  time  it  was  two  in  the  morning  and  they 
entreated  her  to  take  some  rest.  It  was  her  custom 
to  have  the  Lives  of  the  Saints  read  aloud  to  her  before 
she  went  to  rest.  This  night  Jane  Kennedy  was  the 
reader.  Mary  bade  her  look  for  the  life  of  a  saint 
who  had  once  been  a  great  sinner.  She  stopped  her 
at  the  life  of  the  penitent  thief.  "In  truth  he  was  a 
great  sinner  but  not  so  great  as  I  have  been.  I  wish 
to  take  him  for  my  patron  for  the  time  that  remains  to 
me.  May  my  Saviour  have  mercy  on  me  and  re- 
member me  and  have  mercy  on  me  as  He  had  on 
him  at  the  hour  of  his  death." 

She  lay  on  her  bed  for  some  hours.  Her  ladies 
were  already  in  mourning  dresses  and  knelt  about  the 
room  with  lighted  tapers,  weeping  or  telling  their 
beads,  but  she  lay  quite  still  and  they  thought  that  she 


THE  END  309 

was  praying.      "This  soul   hath   penance  done  and 
penance  more  will  do." 

At  six  she  roused  herself  and  bade  them  wash  her 
feet.  She  had  chosen  a  fine  lawn  kerchief  to  be  used 
in  binding  her  eyes.  She  had  herself  attired  with 
care  and  great  stateliness ;  her  petticoat  and  bodice 
were  of  dark  crimson,  over  these  she  wore  a  black 
satin  bodice  and  petticoat,  with  a  long  satin  train 
furred  and  with  hanging  sleeves.  Her  head-dress  was 
of  lawn  with  a  long  flowing  white  veil.  She  had  an 
Agnus  Dei  round  her  neck  and  two  rosaries  hung 
at  her  belt. 

The  door  leading  to  her  rooms  was  locked  in  the 
inside  and  she  was  kneeling  with  her  maids  in  prayer 
when  a  loud  knocking  announced  the  Sheriffhad  come 
to  fetch  her.  All  her  life,  others  had  waited  on  her 
leisure  and  now  she  sent  to  bid  them  wait  till  her 
prayers  were  ended.  They  feared  resistance  and  after 
brief  consultation,  were  preparing  to  use  force,  but,  on 
the  Sheriff  knocking  again,  the  door  opened  at  once 
and  he  was  startled  to  see  that  queenly  figure  in  front 
of  him,  adorned  and  composed  as  if  for  a  state 
occasion.  One  of  her  servants  carried  the  ivory 
crucifix  from  her  altar  in  front  of  her,  the  rest  followed, 
weeping.  To  their  dismay  they  were  summarily 
turned  back  at  the  door  of  their  apartments. 

Mary  now  carried  the  crucifix  and  folded 
kerchief  in  her  own  hands  and  was  conducted  by 
Paulet's  halberdiers. 

On  the  first  landing  she  was  met  by  the  two  earls 
who  marvelled  to  see  her  so  composed.  At  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  she  met  Andrew  Melville,  her  steward. 
He  was  to  carry  the  news  of  her  death  to  Scotland. 
"  It    will  be    the   sorrowfullest  message  that  ever    I 


310  MARY  STUART 

carried,"  he  sobbed  kneeling  at  her  feet.  But  she 
comforted  him  saying,  "  Good  Melville,  to-day  thou 
seest  the  end  of  Mary  Stuart's  miseries  and  that  should 
rejoice  thee."  She  bade  him  tell  her  friends  that  she 
died  a  true  woman  to  her  religion,  a  faithful  Scottish 
woman  and  a  true  French  woman. 

Before  she  entered  the  hall,  she  spoke  again  to 
Sir  Amyas  about  her  servants  and  their  future  well- 
being.  Then  she  begged  that  some  of  them  might 
attend  her  to  the  scaffold,  and  when  the  earls 
demurred  she  added  with  the  old  womanly  charm, 
"  Alas  !  poor  souls,  it  will  do  them  good  to  bid  me 
farewell  and  I  hope  that  your  mistress,  being  a  maiden 
queen,  in  regard  of  womanhood  will  suffer  me  to  have 
some  of  my  own  people  about  me  at  my  death." 

She  undertook  for  her  maids  that  they  would  not 
weep  nor  make  a  commotion.  From  her  gentlemen 
she  chose  Melville,  Bourgoign,  Gorion  the  apothecary, 
and  a  fourth,  Balthazar  Hulley,  an  old  man.  Of  her 
maids,  Elisabeth  Curie  and  Jane  Kennedy.  With 
these  following  her  she  moved  into  the  hall  and, 
cowering  in  the  folds  of  her  dress,  unnoticed  of  all,  a 
little  dog  kept  close  to  his  mistress'  side. 

A  fire  burned  in  the  large  fire-place  of  the  hall ; 
near  it  a  platform  was  hung  all  round  with  black.  On 
three  sides  a  balustrade  kept  off  the  gentlemen 
assembled  in  the  hall  to  witness  the  deed,  on  the 
fourth  it  could  be  ascended  by  steps.  The  two 
executioners  masked,  in  black  clothes  and  white 
aprons,  stood  motionless  on  the  platform  ;  stools  were 
placed  for  the  Queen  and  the  two  earls ;  there  was 
also  a  black  draped  block  and  a  stool,  and  the  axe 
was  leant  against  the  balustrade. 

While  the  Queen's  Commission  was  being  read  the 


THE  END  311 

Scottish  Queen  sat  collected  and  indifferent  as  if  what 
she  heard  concerned  her  not  at  all. 

Unless  he  were  a  man  of  ardent  faith  or  infinite 
self-sufficiency,  the  Dean  of  Peterborough  must  have 
been  in  the  painfullest  case.  He  approached  that 
august  and  disdainful  presence  and,  bowing  low,  got 
four  times  as  far  as  "  Madame,  the  Queen's  most 
excellent  Majesty."  She  stopped  him  firmly.  "  Mr 
Dean  I  am  settled  in  the  ancient  Catholic  religion  and 
mind  to  spend  my  life  in  defence  of  it."  He  tried  to 
condense  all  he  had  to  say  in  one  sentence,  bidding  her 
lay  aside  her  unclean  dregs  of  superstition,  repent  her 
wickedness  and  set  her  faith  on  Christ  to  be  saved. 

The  earls,  foreseeing  a  controversy,  interposed  and 
said  that,  as  she  would  not  listen  to  exhortation,  they 
would  all  pray  for  her.  While  all  the  company  joined 
in  prayer  for  Mary's  repentance,  for  a  blessing  on  the 
Queen's  Majesty  and  confusion  to  her  enemies,  Mary 
began  to  recite  aloud  the  penitential  psalms  in  Latin, 
slipping  from  her  seat  and  praying  with  great  fervour. 
When  the  rest  had  finished  she  continued  her  prayers, 
praying  specially  for  Elisabeth,  that  she  might  serve 
God  aright.  She  held  the  Cross  in  her  hand,  often 
striking  it  against  her  breast.  Lord  Kent  could  not 
moderate  his  zeal  and  cried,  "  Madame,  settle  Christ 
Jesus  in  your  heart  and  leave  these  trumpery  things." 

But  the  crucifix  meant  much  to  Mary.  As  she 
ended  her  prayers  she  kissed  it  and  said,  "  even  as  Thy 
arms,  Oh  Jesus,  were  spread  here  upon  the  Cross,  so 
receive  me  into  the  arms  of  Thy  Mercy."  The 
executioner  approached  to  help  her  to  undress  but, 
with  a  touch  of  playfulness,  she  said,  "  Let  me  do  this. 
I  understand  this  business  better  than  you,  I  never 
had   such   a   groom    of  the    chamber."      Then    she 


312  MARY  STUART 

beckoned  to  her  two  ladies  to  help  her.  The 
affectionate,  familiar  service  under  such  appalling 
circumstances  moved  them  beyond  bearing,  and  they 
began  to  sob  aloud,  but  she  placed  her  finger  on  their 
lips  and  said  with  the  old  authority,  "  Ne  criez  pas, 
j'ai  promis  pour  vous,"  she  kissed  them  and  made  the 
sign  of  the  Cross  over  them. 

She  was  still  a  noble  and  comely  woman  as  she 
stood  in  her  crimson  undress,  her  white  shoulders  and 
long  round  throat  bare.  The  slender  figure  had 
grown  stouter  without  losing  its  stately  carriage,  the 
face  had  broadened,  the  chin  was  full  and  powerful, 
Elisabeth  Curie  weeping,  kissed  the  kerchief  and 
bound  it  round  her  eyes. 

Then  she  sat  down  on  her  stool,  raised  her  head 
and  stretched  her  neck  expecting  the  sword  stroke, 
for  such  was  the  privilege  of  royal  persons  condemned 
to  death  in  France.  No  stroke  came  but  a  confused 
sound  of  voices  and  a  giving  of  new  directions — a 
fearful  strain  on  her  tense  nerves.  The  executioners 
helped  her  to  rise  and  to  arrange  her  head  on  the 
low-lying  block. 

With  eyes  darkened,  but  with  hand  clasping  the 
Cross  of  Christ,  through  the  terrible  silence  of  that 
crowded  room,  she  cried  with  unfaltering  voice.  "  In 
manus  tuas  Domine  me  commendo."    Then  the  axe  fell. 

When,  after  the  savage  fashion  of  the  time,  the 
executioner  held  up  the  head  before  the  assembled 
people,  the  head-dress  fell  off  and  showed  the  hair 
below  it  quite  white  and  short ;  in  the  anguish  of 
death  the  beautiful  face  had  contracted  suddenly  and 
looked  worn  and  pinched  like  that  of  an  old  woman. 
The  faithful  little  dog  still  lay  cowering  beside  the 
dead  body  and  could  not  be  induced  to  leave  it. 


THE    EXECUTION    OF    MARY,    QUEEN    OF   SCOTS 


THE  END  313 

One  last  service  her  ladies  were  earnest  to  render 
to  her.  For  years  they  had  tended  her  in  sickness 
and  in  health,  they  begged  that  only  the  hands  that 
loved  her  might  touch  her  body.  It  was  roughly 
denied  to  them  and  they  were  rudely  hurried  back  to 
their  rooms. 

Everything  that  had  belonged  to  her,  her  beads, 
robes,  mantles,  the  very  drapery  of  the  scaffold  stained 
with  her  blood  were  burnt  in  the  great  hall  fire 
lest  they  should  be  carried  away  and  honoured  as 
relics. 

Meantime  Henry  Talbot,  mounted  on  a  swift  horse, 
was  already  on  his  way  to  bear  the  news  to  London 
and  the  court. 

•  ••••• 

For  a  moment  all  the  history  of  the  time  seemed 
concentrated  in  the  hall  at  Fotheringay.  But  a 
moment  more  and  the  world  was  again  plunging 
along  its  anxious,  ambitious  way. 

Elisabeth's  one  anxiety  was  to  escape  all  responsi- 
bility for  the  execution  of  her  cousin.  She  stormed 
at  her  Council,  banished  Burghley  from  her  presence, 
and  flung  all  the  blame  on  Davison,  pursuing  him 
with  fines  and  imprisonments  till  he  was  a  ruined  man. 
She  wrote  abject  letters  to  James  assuring  him  of  her 
innocence  and  cajoling  him  with  an  increased  pension 
and  greater  assurance  of  the  succession. 

Scotland  was  in  a  ferment.  Francis,  Lord  Both- 
well,  put  on  his  armour  as  the  only  suitable  "  dule 
weed "  and  made  a  raid  into  England  as  the  only 
adequate  expression  of  sorrow.  Had  James  been 
any  other  than  James,  the  anger  of  his  nobles  would 
have  driven  him  into  war  with  Elisabeth,  but  he 
tarried  and  negotiated  till  it  was  decent  for  him   to 


314  MARY  STUART 

drop    his   indignation   and   renew   alliance    with    his 
mother's  enemies. 

In  Paris,  so  great  and  universal  was  the  emotion 
when  the  news  arrived  that  the  English  ambassador 
expected  a  declaration  of  war.  But  France  had 
troubles  enough  of  her  own  to  attend  to  and  the 
excitement  ended  in  tears  and  windy  words.  Mean- 
while Philip  of  Spain  continued  to  gather  men  and 
ships  and  stores  for  his  great  enterprise,  and  laid 
before  the  Pope  Mary's  demission  of  her  claims  in  his 
favour. 

So  half  the  world  forgot  and  half  made  profit  of 
the  death  of  the  woman  who  had  for  years  kept 
Europe  in  a  ferment. 

And  when  they  turned  again  to  their  scheming  and 
lying  and  fighting,  and  invading,  she,  thank  God,  was 
out  of  it  all  and  at  rest. 

Again  and  again  her  story  has  been  told,  a  story 
strange  and  pitiful  and  terrible,  and  of  undying  interest. 
Volumes  have  been  written  to  prove  her  innocence, 
and  counter  volumes  to  prove  her  guilt,  but  innocent 
or  guilty  she  has  never  lost  her  hold  on  the  hearts  and 
imaginations  of  men. 

Her  judges  would  not  allow  the  plea  she  put 
forward  so  proudly,  that  being  a  queen  she  could  be 
judged  by  none  but  God  alone  ;  her  biographer  may 
plead  for  her,  that,  seeing  that  she  was  a  woman  of 
queenly  nature,  she  may  be  left  to  the  mercy  of  that 
Infallible  Judgment. 

"  Cry  unto  her  that  her  warfare  is  accomplished, 
that  her  iniquity  is  pardoned,  for  she  hath  received  at 
the  Lord's  hand  double  for  all  her  sins."  ; 


r. 
2 


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SI 


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2 


INDEX 


Ainslie  Bond,  the,  143,  149,  195 

Alencon,  Duke  of,  253 

Allen,  Dr,  256,  257 

Alva,  Duke  of,  27,  204,  218,  225 

Amboise,  Conspiracy  of,  33-34 

Anjou,  Duke  of,  223 

Aquila,  Duke  of,  Spanish  Ambas- 
sador, 77,  90 

Argyle,  Earl  of,  28,  50,  92,  III,  118, 
128,  140,  177 

Argyle,  Countess  of,  105 

Armour,  Cuddy,  246 

Arran,  Regent,  see  Chatelherault 

Arran,  Earl  of,  son  of  Chatelherault, 
28,  32,  44,  64,  87 

Arundel,  Lord,  208,  226 

Athol,  Earl  of,  102,  149,  155,  161, 
164,  169,  171 

Babington,  Antony,  251,  278-287, 

295 
Bacon,  Sir  Nicholas,  198 
Balfour,  Sir  James,   124,  127,  135, 

137,  143,  151,  158,  167,  171,  177 
Ballard,  278,  279,  282 
Barham,  Sergeant,  200 
Bastran,  128,  217 
Beale,  Secretary,  297 
Beaton,  Andrew,  243 
Beaton,    Archbishop    of    Glasgow, 

136,  174,  230,  256,  257,  266,  267, 

298 
Beaton,  Cardinal,  5,  12  n. 
Beaton,  John,  179 
Beaton,  Mary,  10,  60,  71,  86,  III, 

I49»  243 
Bedford,  Earl  of,  40,  in,  119-121, 

185,  189 

Belliere,  French  Envoy,  301 

Blackadder,  Captain,  147 

Bog,  William,  16 

Bothwell,  Francis,  Lord,  302,  313 

Bothwell,  James  Hepburn,  Earl  of, 
19,  21,  22,  26,  45,  49,  65-66,  83, 
qS-ioo,  105,  106,  109-118  passim, 


119-134,   134-161,   163,    173,   176, 

181,  190,  193,  197,  210,  224,  227, 

245 
Bothwell,    Lady,    see    Lady    Jean 

Gordon 
Bourgoign,  Mary's  apothecary,  283, 

284,  310 
Boyd,  Lord,  209 
Brantome,  Sieur  de,  29,  49,  51 
Bromley,  Lord,  291 
Buccleuch,  Lady  of,  103,  112 
Buchanan,  Master  George,  75,  77, 

in,  113,  121,  130,  222,  231,  253 
Buckhurst,  Lord,  297 

Campian,  Father  Edmund,  2152,  278 

Carlos,  Don,  41,  79 

Carwood,  Margaret,  125 

Casket   Letters,  the,  38,   126,   145, 

164,  193-199 
Cassilis,  Lord,  127,  128 
Castelnan  de  Mauvissiere,  French 

Ambassador,  239,  279 
Catherine  de  Medici,  1,  13,  21,  30, 

39,  42,  58,  60,  77,  165,  182,  301 
Cavendish,  Elizabeth,  245 
Cavendish,  Mr  Richard,  207 
Cecil,  Sir  William,  35,  81,  86,  147, 

185,  191,  197,  198,  208,  214,  220, 

225,  227,  235,  276,  291,  313 
Chalmers,  Mr  David,  113,  137,  144 
Charles  IX.,  King  of  France,  77, 163, 

238 
Chastelar,  19,  75-77 
Chateauneuf,  French  Ambassador, 

273 
Chatelherault,  Duke  of,  6-9,  24,  25, 

28,  43,  64,  92,  180 
Claude    de    Valois,     Duchess    ot 

Lorraine,  14,  29,  41 
Craig,  John,  152,  167 
Craigmillar  Bond,  117-118,  177 
Crawford    of   Jordanhill,    122-123, 

210 
Crichton,  Father,  256 

315 


316 


INDEX 


Croc,  du,  French  Ambassador,  113, 

138,  153,  156 
Crofts,  Sir  John,  291 
Cullen,  Captain,  129 
Curie,  Secretary,  280,  284-289,  295, 

308 
Curie,  Elizabeth,  310 

Dalgleish,  George,  164,  176 

Damville,  Sieur  de,  49 

Darnley,  Lord,  10,  21,  26,  41,  68, 
80,  85-95,  99-io8,  109-134,  146, 
170,  181,  194,  227,  255,  269 

Davison,  Secretary,  303,  313 

Derby,  Earl  of,  198 

D'Elboeuf,  Duke,  32,  65 

Diane  de  Poictiers,  13,  21 

Douglas,  Archibald,  132,  164,  301 

Douglas,  George,  175-183,  230 

Douglas  of  Loch  Leven,  169,  179 

Douglas,  Lady  Margaret,  see  Lady 
Lennox 

Douglas,  Willie,  176-179,  229,  278 

D'Oysel,  46-48 

Dudley,  Lord  Robert,  see  Leicester 

Drury,  99,  179,  237 

Drury,  Sir  Dure,  303 

Du  Bellay,  19,  75 

Elisabeth,  Queen  of  England,  1, 
16,  20,  21,  24,  26,  30,  32,  35,  42, 
44,  47,  54,  58,  61-64,  69-84,  86-95 
passim,  100,  III,  131,  138,  142, 
151,  163,  165,  169,  183,  184-314 
passim 

Elisabeth  of  Valois,  Queen  of  Spain, 
14,  29,  50,  174,  204,  232 

Elphinston,  Nicholas,  169 

Englefield,  Sir  Francis,  258 

Eric,  King  of  Sweden,  41 

Erskine,  Arthur,  the  Equerry,  105, 
108 

Erskine,  Janet,  wife  of  Douglas  of 
Loch  Leven,  4,  168,  175,  177 

Erskine,  Lord  Mar,  96,  ill,  139, 
149,  164,  235-236 

Fleming,  Lady,  11,  12 
Fleming,  Lord,  151,  188,  230 
Fleming,  Mary,  10,  60,  83,  85,  97, 

112,  143,  168,  232,237 
Fontenay,  268 
Francis  II.,  King  of  France,  15,  20, 

26,  30,  33,  38,  39 


Gifford,  Gilbert,  275-289 
Glencairn,  Earl  of,  74,  109,  149,  164 
Gordon,     Adam,    Bishop     of   the 

Orkneys,  153 
Gordon,  Lady  Jean,  68,   102,  146, 

149,  160,  170 
Gordon,    John,    son    of    Earl    of 

Huntly,  66,  141 
Gordon,  Master  John,  229 
Gorges,  Sir  Thomas,  284 
Gorion,  310 

Goudanus,  Papal  Envoy,  57-58 
Granvelle,  Cardinal,  27,  258 
Gray,  Patrick,  Master  of,  267-270, 

3°i,  303 

Guerau,  de,  Spanish  Ambassador, 

205,  224 
Guise,  Antoinette,  Duchess  of,  3,  1 1, 

167,  247 
Guise,  Antoinette  de,  daughter  of 

above,  2 
Guise,  Claude,  Duke  of,  2 
Guise,  Francis,  Duke  of,  2,  15,  18, 

24,  31-34,  54-59,  7i,88,  115 
Guise,  Henri,  Duke  of,  son  of  above, 

247-249,  254-261,  266,  300 

Hacket,  George,  133 

Hamilton,  Archbishop,  125,  149,  180 

Hamilton,  Lord  Claude,   125,   129, 

277,  281 
Hamilton  of  Bothwellhaugh,  219 
Hatton,  Christopher,  244,  291,  293 
Hawkins,  Sir  John,  226 
Hay  of  Talla,  127,  132,  176-177 
Henry  II.,  King  of  France,  3,  13, 

23,  26,  29 
Henry  III.,  King  of  France,  238, 

301 
Henry  VIII.,  King  of  England,  3, 

6-9,  38 
Hepburn,  Bishop  of  Moray,  173 
Hepburn  of  Bowton,  118,  132,  158, 

176 
Hepburn  of  Ormiston,  127,  132 
Hereford,  Earl  of,  217 
Herries,    Lord,    151,   178,    180-183, 

188,  190,  192 
Higford,  227 
Home,  Lord,  164 
Huntingdon,  Lord,  217,  218 
Huntly,  Earl  of,  45,  51,  66-68 
Huntly,    George,    Earl   of,    son    to 

above,  67,  97,  102,  105,  106,  120, 


INDEX 


317 


132,  135-140,  147,  153)  l6l>  *73, 

177 
Huntly,  Lady,  67,  107 

James  V.,  King  of  Scotland,  3-5, 

175 
James  VI.,  King  of  Scotland,  119, 

222,  245,  253-262,  266-270,  274, 

3QI,  3X3 
John,  Don,  of  Austria,  248-249 

Kennedy,  Jane,  308 
Kent,  Earl  of,  305,  311 
Killegrew,  139,  235-236 
Kirkcaldy  of  Grange,  146,   1 57-1 59, 

173,  181,  210,  236 
Knollys,  Sir  Francis,  34,   186-188, 

193,  196,  199,  203,  212-214,  272 
Knox,  John,  27,  42,  47,  54-56,  74, 

78-79,  96,  98,  102,  152,  167,  177, 

236 

La  Mothe  FENELON,  French  Am- 
bassador, 227,  239 
Leicester,  Earl  of,  31,  40,  70,  81, 

84,  86,   194,    197,    198,  200,   208, 

216,  235,  265,  291 
Lennox,  Earl  of,  43,  82-83,  86,  98, 

no,  122,  126,  137,  140,  142,  193, 

219 
Lennox,  Lady,  9,  41,  80,  86,90,  222, 

232,  264 
Leslie,  Bishop  of  Ross,  45,  192,  204, 

224,  226 
Library,  Queen  Mary's,  17-20 
Lindsay,  Lord,  53,   107,   157,    158, 

161,  168 
Livingston,  Lord,  10,  122,  151 
Livingston,  Lady,  212 
Livingston,  Mary,  10,  85,  243 
Lorraine,  Cardinal  of,  18,  20,  31,  33, 

54,  78,  88,  150,  182,  242,247 
Lowther,  High  Sheriff,  185 
Lumley,  Lord,  208 

Maitland  of  Lethington,  36,  42, 
44,  58,  61,  71,  76-78,  83,  85,  90- 
97,  117-118,  131,  136,  141,  147, 
148,  152-160,  164,  166,  171,  177, 
190-199,  202,  209-211,  221,  237- 
238 

Makgill,  223 

Mar,  Earl  of,  see  Lord  Erskine 


Margaret    of    Valois,     Queen     of 

Navarre,  14,  21 
Martiques,  Sieur  de,  32,  46,  165 
Mary  of  Guise,  1-12,  23,  28,  31,  35, 

45,  51,96,  115,  128 
Mary  Tudor,  1,  23,  24,  26,  28 
Maximilian,  Emperor  of  Germany, 

41 

Melville,  Sir  Andrew,  283,  294,  309, 

310 
Melville,  Sir  James,  20,  69,  109,  112, 

147,  148,  152-154 
Melville,    Sir    Robert,     151,     168, 

302 
Mendoza,   Bernardino  di,  Spanish 

Ambassador,    252-262,  275,  279, 

282,  296,  300 
Methven,  Lord,  177 
Middlemore,  189 
Mildmay,  Sir  Thomas,  220 
Moretta,     Savoyard    Ambassador, 

126,  136 
Morgan,  Thomas,    241,    256,    268, 

275,  276,  279 
Morton,  Earl  of,  17,  75,  83,  97,  no, 

121,  125,  132,  135,  144,  158,  164, 

167,   171,  190-199,  222,  235-237, 

253,  255  .  ,    T    J 

Murray,  Agnes  Keith,  Lady,  22,  61, 

96,  163-164 
Murray,  James  Stuart,  Earl  of,  17, 
25,  28,  36,  43,  5°,  58,  64,  67,  71, 
76,  78,  83,  89-95,  96-99,  103,  107, 
109-118,  120,  127,  131,  136,  139, 
169,  183,  189-199,  202,  211,  216, 
219,  232 

Nau,  106,  246,  276,  284-289,  295, 

3°7,  308 
Nelson,  129, 
Norfolk,  38,  192-199,  200-211,  216- 

233,  235 
Northumberland,  Earl  of,  186,  193, 

217,  218,  222 
Northumberland,  Lady,  217,  218 
Norton,  Mr  Christopher,  212,  213 
Norton,  father  of  above,  218 

Ochiltree,  Lord,  53,  75 

Ogilvy   of    Boyne,    102,    in,    149, 

243 

Paget,  Lord,  271,  275,  290 
Paris,  French,  125-128,  133,  194 


318 


INDEX 


Paroy,  Madame  de,  22 

Parry,  275 

Pasquier,  287,  289 

Paulet,    Sir  Amyas,   241,   272-289, 
298,  303,  3io 

Phellips,  280-281 

Philip,  King  of  Spain,  23,  29,  78,  93 
97,  151,  201,  204,  224,  238,  249, 
257-262,  274,  277,  279,  314 

Pierrepoint,  Bess,  244 

Pitcairn,  223 

Pius  V.,  Pope,  150,  165,  225 

Powrie,  127 

Rallay,  Mademoiselle,  271 

Rambouillet,  101 

Randolph,  17,  37,  47,  55.  60,  71-73, 

87,  90,  100,  104,  158,  219 
Raulet,  Secretary,  84,  246 
Reres,   Mrs    Forbes   of,    112,   113, 

122-123 
Riccio,  David,  84,  88,  91,  99-108, 

115,  126,  128,  246 
Riccio,  Joseph,  122,  127,  147 
Ridolfi,  224 
Robsart,  Amy,  194 
Ronsard,  14,  19,  75,  178 
Ruthven,  Lord,  75,  91,  104-106,  115 
Ruthven,  son  of  above,  161,   168, 

259 

Sadler,  Sir  Ralph,  7-8,  192-199, 

232,  266,  271,  272,  291 
Sanquhar,  Lord,  164 
Savage,  275,  278,  279 
Scrope,  Lord,  186,  203,  213 
Scrope,  Lady,  192,  203 
Sempill,  Lord,  164 
Sempill  of  Beltrees,  85,  343 
Seton,  Mary,  10,  86,  112,  161,  243 
Seton,  Lord,  137,  151,  156,  180 
Shrewsbury,    Lord,    198,  203,  206, 

214,  217,  220,  228,  230,  240,  265, 

272,  278,  291,  305 


Shrewsbury,  Lady,  207,   232,  243- 

^245,  263-265 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  268 

Silva,  de,  Spanish  Ambassador,  170, 

205 
Somerset,  Regent,  10 
Somerville,  262 
Spens,  "black  Mr  John,"  137 
Standen,  Antony,  108 
Stewart,  James,  Earl  of  Arran,  254, 

259 
Stuart,  Lady  Arabella,  245,  263 
Stuart,  Lord  Charles,  245 
Stuart,  Esme",  Due  d'Aubigny,  254- 

257 
Stuart,  Lord  James,  see  Murray 
Stuart,  Lord  John,  43,  302 
Stuart,  Lord  Robert,  43,  65,  87,  91, 

94,  105,  126 
Sussex,  Earl  of,  192-195 

Talbot,  Henry,  313 

Talbot,  265 

Throckmorton,  Francis,  251,  262 

Throckmorton,  Sir  Nicholas,  18,  29, 

40,  46,  47-49,  92,  104,    no,  166, 

171,  177,  203,  262 
Topcliffe,  263 
Traquair,  Laird  of,  108 
Trondeson,  Anne,  103 
Tullibardine,  Laird  of,  157,  164,  169, 

178,  246 

WAAD,  267 

Walsingham,  Sir  Francis,  259,  262, 
272-289,290,  291,  295,  301,  303, 

305 
Westmoreland,  Earl  of,  198 
Westmoreland,  203 
White,  Nicholas,  214-215 
Wilson,  Bothwell's  servant,  127 
Wilson,  Dr,  227 
Wotton,  Dr,  35 


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